


Morgana

by WinterIsobel



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alliances, BAMF Everett, Black Panther (2018) - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Feels, First Meetings, Fluff, Infinity War (2018) - Freeform, Legends, Levi - Freeform, M/M, Magic, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sex, Slow Burn, Sorcerers, Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Timelines
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2019-03-04
Packaged: 2019-04-30 05:08:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 37,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14489481
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterIsobel/pseuds/WinterIsobel
Summary: If he just knew when they first met maybe.. No. Even then, he would choose the same path all over again.Or maybe he's known the whole time. The moment he picked up Everett's name among hundreds others, his soul guided him out in the open sea, without looking back.





	1. Stripper

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [Morgana(translation)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15654288) by [Olilikesleo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Olilikesleo/pseuds/Olilikesleo)



> I DID watch IW and [no spoilers] it was soo good and soo bad. I definitely have mixed feelings.  
> And I have a lot of feelings about this new otp of mine <3 So here we go, new ff going through Thor Ragnarok and Black Panther's events, and past Infinity War. By the time I get there with the chapters, spoilers will not be an issue anymore. HIATUS will be. 
> 
> Have fun.

 

“Now the next one”

Stephen sights internally. He managed Loki’s problem quite rapidly, thanks to Thor's assistance. Not so optimist about the next one.  
The Ancient One never thought about making contact with any agency, state or not. Sorcerers are supposed to defend the whole world of course, but the most recent events are alarming enough to suppose there would be need for tighter collaboration, on every possible side.

And being him the Sorcerer Supreme and Protector of New York’s Sanctorum..

He visited a few governmental facilities at night during the last week -on the astral plane of course- and went through various files about personnel.  
Finding someone with good position but without privileges. Someone who got the job done without being a loudmouth. Someone with good contacts. Impossible.  
He has always been _too_ demanding, Stephen kept thinking going through the papers.

Until his eyes fall on a particular subject. How unbelievably lucky.

Everett Ross, CIA agent, relocated in New York after a brief mission in Europe. Former pilot.  
Agent working alongside former SHIELD, new SHIELD, Interpol, NATO, he had to deal with Captain Roger and some other Avengers. Quite recently.  
Except for the trip in Europe, he never changed house despite the promotions.

Maybe he should spend some more time going through the rest of the curricula he planned to consult. Except for the fact that his mind has set on this one. Almost by hunch..

He could do, Stephen decides.  
But this one, he has the impression he can’t summon in the Sanctorum.

 

 

Everett has been dealing with paperwork and meetings the whole morning and when his new secretary enters the office with a guilty expression, he can’t help a sight. She has been relocated here something like four days ago and still has problems keeping up with…well everything. Sometimes he misses all the action. Right now, he would give everything for a little adrenaline.

“Marthe, what is it?” he patiently inquires, resuming his work as he listens.

“Sir, something happened ..to your planner”  
“Is it a gentle way to say you destroyed the bloody thing?”

“No Sir. I was checking your booked appointments when..” her tone took a disbelieving edge, “they _disappeared_.”

Everett lets out a laugh. He knows he is going to have a hell of a day. He is stuck in the whole day.

“Check again Marthe” he suggests, dodging her comments.

“I already double-checked Sir! They just-just cancelled themselves in front of me. Look” she approaches the desk, the note in his hands, “You have just one appointment for the rest of the day.” And the planner is on his desk to be seen.  
He needs to check the date because how is it fucking possible? He remembers taking a look first thing in the morning. The page turned back blank. Except for a showy purple note, written in neither his or Marthe’s writing.

 

 **5pm Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme. New York.**  
**Ps. I suppose we’ll need at least one hour and half to get to know each other and see if we can make it work.**  
**I need to be in Hong Kong by dinner’s time. I relocated your previous appointments next week.**

 

“What the hell?” he murmurs, before glaring up at the woman and shutting the note closed.

“Is it a prank? Is it Greenberg’s idea?” He returns the planner and goes back to read his report, pissed by their joke.

“No Sir. Please, I-I don’t know what’s-” she tries to excuse herself.  
Everett is not even listening at her. His eyes linger on the clock. 4:57pm.

“Well, he has never been good at these things. The name itself is too absurd to be real. Go back to work.”

She silently exits the room and Everett is about to resume his duties for real when another knock disturbs him.

“Marthe, you can tell Greenberg to go and put his-“ he raises his head and God himself is standing on his doorstep in a deep blue suite.

Well-finished beard. High cheekbones and a fierce glance.  
Marthe’s tremulous voice wakes him up from his day-dreaming.

“Sir, your appointment. Doctor Strange from .. New York’s Sanctorum, is it?”

 

The secretary has just left them alone and the man has taken place in front of him, rather relaxed.  
“How much did they pay you?”, Everett asks without waiting.  
The man obviously is some kind of stripper or gigolo, a wrapped-up temptation delivered by his colleagues to torment him.

“I beg your pardon?” the other asks, an eyebrow turning up in confusion.

“Greenberg, how much did he promise? Listen, I’m sorry. They are jackass, all of them. I don’t know what they told you to do, so please don’t take it bad. I have work to do so just tell me how much they promise you so I’ll pay myself for the missed..interpretation.. and you ..can leave?”  
If this is not the most embarrassing thing he has ever done, he has no idea what it could be. But the guy -dark haired, tall, amazing guy- has no part in this mess, he was just hired and work is work. Everett would feel guilty knowing he ruined someone else’s day, even if unwillingly.  
The man stares at him in stupor, and Everett would gladly dig a grave and hide in it because it is clear as sun he has never been rejected. Who being sound of mind would do that?

“I’m afraid you misunderstood, Mr. Ross. I have no business with your colleagues. I have an appointment to discuss a possible collaboration between your agency – you in specific- and the institution I represent, here in New York. As I mentioned before, I need to be in Honk Kong later this evening so please, shall we get started?”  
Silence answers him.

Strange keeps observing him as he slowly realize what has just happened. But the horror and the embarrassment almost immediately leave place to other thoughts, as he straightens up on his chair and observes him with new eyes.

 

 

The blond man is quite something, Stephen finds himself to think. He is in his forties, as he knew from reading his file, as himself, and yet he shows an undeniable, refreshing strength underneath the semblance of quiet pen-pusher. The gleam in his eyes is strangely captivating and for some reason Stephen finds himself leaning forward the desk standing between them.  
“Where is your badge?” Everett asks sharply, interrupting his thoughts just in time. How inappropriate could he act sometimes. He straights up again.  
“My badge?”  
“Yes, the one they gave you when you entered the facility.”

“I do not. I come from the closet. I thought it would be more tactful. Appearing in the hall would bring all the soldiers you have at disposal to shoot at me and me summoning you in the Sanctorum would indispose you. Indisposed people are harder to cooperate with.”  
Everett is not sure if he wants to punch him in the face, call the security – is it even possible that he entered the facility without them knowing?- or if the man in front of him simply needs to see a real doctor because he is clearly delusional.

“Mr.Strange..”

“It’s Doctor Strange. I’m a doctor-“

Everett slowly moves toward the phone, trying not to alarm his guest. Appearing? Sanctorum. He booked himself as Sorcerer Supreme. He is no stripper? Fine. Does he honestly believe to be..what..a wizard?

“.. I don’t know what your problem is but..I’m going to call the security now. And an ambulance. You might need some kind of assist-“

“Enough with it” Strange lets out rolling his eyes, before moving.

Everett is still reaching at the phone dial. He has just the time to register Strange’s hands moving in a funny kind of way, drawing invisible lines in the air. They are scarred, and yet he can’t help but notice they are beautiful hands, strong hands, with long and slim fingers. He could have made wonders with those, being a great pianist. Playing the violin. Whatever.  
The hands move, he fixes on them and next thing he knows, the office is gone.  
Well, he is gone. Gone from the office. Meaning, he is no longer in the office.

He is sitting on a brown leather Molinari lounge chair, a nice fireplace at his right side and Mr..no, Doctor Strange in front of him, still in his perfect one-piece.

“WHAT THE FUCKING HELL DID YOU JUST-”  
“Please! Could you just… _stop swearing_? It’s disturbing.” An old butler appears on the doorstep but Strange dismisses him with a reassuring gesture before resuming his speech. “We are in a private club in London. I like to come here sometimes. I’d hate to be expelled.”  
London.

Everett gets up and steps closer to the window. First floor. A few luxury cars parked outside. Undeniably, British number plates.

“How..?” he lets himself wonder if any of what he’s experiencing is real or if he’s having an ictus on the floor of his office and this is some kind of..waiting room for the end?  
“I’m a sorcerer. So magic, if you want a synthesis. It’s more complicated than just that, but it’s enough for now.”

No. His brain is not that prolific. For how impossible it might seem, it’s probably real.  
“So..are you an Inhuman?” He sits down again, alert.  
“No, of course not. I just learned how to use it.” His hands move again and on the table in front of them makes its appearance a trail with a pot of tea and two cups. “And now I protect the Earth from a particular kind of threats. Which brought me to you.”

“You talked about collaboration”

“I did. I need some contact and I think we could work just fine.”

“ _Kidnapping me_ isn’t a good start” Everett can’t help it. The man could probably turn him into a teapot as well and yet he feels the need to regain some control over the conversation. He doesn’t like the trail of his thoughts. This man is obviously..distracting him. All magic’s fault, really. Nothing else, he tells himself. He just needs to get over the initial shock -like he did with Asgardian gods, enhanced soldiers and aliens – and it will be fine. All of it if he is not going to spend his last days as pottery in an English club.

  
Surprisingly, his scolding has a totally unexpected effect. The sorcerer’s guarding expression melts into a genuine smile as he laughs, amused.   
“You can’t blame me when you were about to hand me to a psychiatric unit. I’m going to return you to your office as soon as we finish our meeting. Then you will decide if we can keep it going or not. No strings attached. How does it sound to you?”  
Everett weights the other’s man words and expression. He is sincere. And having a seemingly powerful wizard as allied might be a nice card to play, if needed.  
Also, a voice deep in his head adds for him, it would be interesting to get to know him better.  
Stephen Strange.

  
He leans back on the chair, more self-confident. At least for now, he is going to have the upper hand.

“Start talking, _Doctor_ ”

  
Another smile cracks on the man’s lips and Everett needs all his self-control to avoid returning it they way he would have if it wasn’t work-related. And a security issue for the government, apparently.

  
“Excellent. Would you like some tea?”


	2. On my own

 

 

 

It’s almost 8am when Stephen makes his appearance in Hong Kong’s Sanctorum. Just a bit later than expected.  
“You are late” Wong greets him, his eyes still fixed on the book in front of him.  
“I’d apologize, but you seem busy. Do you want to know how it ends?”. The portal closes behind him in a rush. The morning air, coming from the open window, feels nice on his skin, contrasting with the fire’s warmth from a few minutes ago.  
He spent the last hour in London, before dropping Everett Ross back in his office, just as promised.  
“No thank you. You already ruined me _The Globet of Fire_. I’m good”, Wong complains, finishing the page and closing the book. Stephen rolls his eyes, ignoring the friend’s words. It has been over a year ago and he still holds it against him-

  
“What are you wearing?”  
Wong is seizing him.  
The suit from the meeting, he’s still wearing it.

“Yeah. Sorry” He changes the outfit with a rapid gesture of his hands. The cape, previously invisible, comes back in sight. It has been kind of nice, actually. Since he first arrived in Kamartaj he hasn’t had many occasions to wear a one piece, like he was so used to before the car accident. The clothes they used to wear for meditation or exercises have grown on him and he also came to appreciate more casual clothes, anytime he has errands in the city. But he has always loved a fine tailored outfit.

“Who were you trying to impress with it?” Wong teased him as they reach for the gate. “Mrs. Liang would have gladly offered her daughter’s hand instead of the usual breakfast this morning. If you are interested.”  
“Please. I didn’t need to impress anyone. It’s just clothes.”  
“Tells one of the formers most-wanted-bachelors, if you read Forbes”  
“So you DO read gossip, after all?” Stephen pays him back and the man ignores him.

He sights.  
Impressing someone? The meeting with Everett Ross went quite well, despite the rough beginning. The man is smart, almost well-behaved, even if Stephen suspects a colourful disposition under the surface he just brushed today.  
He still doesn’t understand why the Ancient One never bothered with external relations. Stephen knows he could be poor-behaved, egocentric and obnoxious, where she has always been calm, affably, diplomatic. She would have been great at this, he considers. And it’s not like she has ever suggested not to act in this direction. Yet, his mouth moves by his own accord to satisfy Wong’s curiosity.  
“I’ve been dealing with some former colleagues. Christine insisted. We went out. This new place on the Fifth Avenue. Dreadful.”  
Wong laugh at him, before adding “How is she?”  
The two of them met a few times in New York.  
“Great. She’s over her head for Dean. They’ll probably be engaged by next year.”. This at least is true.  
They sit down at their usual table -they are known customers at Mrs. Liang’s-.

“Are you ok?”

Stephen smiles at the friend’s ill-concealed worry.  
“I am. We fell apart as a couple long before I became a sorcerer.” He plays with the soy sauce’s bottle as he continues, “I was able to earn back her friendship. I’ll always love her in that sense. She’s one of the most important people in my life. And I’m happy she has found someone.”  
Wong looks satisfied with the answer, even if he has some thought still wandering in his eyes.

“What about you?”

Stephen’s head twitch away from the table. A chuckle prevents him from replying right away. “ _..what about me?_ ”  
What about him? He had plenty of faults in the outcoming of his relationship with Christine. He has never been good at them, even before that. Relationships. He can’t even remember the last time he went out with someone and just..relaxed.  
A shadow of him, drinking tea in one of his favourite places no longer than an hour ago pops up in a tiny corner of his mind, but he forces himself to dismiss the feeling.  
He has no intention to deal with this topic. And certainly, he has it written all over his face because Wong makes that face. The _‘Don’t bullshit me Strange’_ face.

“I am busy. I have plenty of things to deal with.”  
Wong is ready to give him hell. He comes from a good night of sleep, while Stephen hasn’t slept in ..well, too much. And has no energies for it. He hurries to add, meant as a distraction.  
“Talking about..I met with Thor Odinson of Asgard, earlier this afternoon..”

Wong knew about Odin’s presence on Earth and Stephen promised he would have deal with it.  
Wong seems to forget what he was about to say and asks for the details, while Mrs. Liang serves them a generous breakfast.  
“In the end they went looking for him. They’ve already left Earth.”

“Good job” Wong nods taking another sip of coffee.  
There is one more thing about Thor Stephen decides to skate over. The moment they shook hands, an odd, intense sensation pervaded him. He knew some sorcerers were able to foresee future. But what he had wasn’t even a clear vision, or anything like it.  
And maybe he is just imagining things. Probably he has just got a strong impression about the Avenger’s future involvement with Earth. Nothing more.  
“You drink too much coffee”, he stands up from their seat.

“And you are not my doctor” Wong counterattacks, following him.  
Stephen grins, giving in one more time. This kind of chatting is routine between them.  
They pay and walk back to the Sanctorum.

There are children running through the street, heading for school. One of them almost slams into Stephen and he is about to fall, but the cloak of levitation helps him up and gently prevents it.  
The child’s eye wide in awe and Stephen smiles at him reassuringly.  
The little boy slightly bows, murmuring a thank. Stephen nods and he is already running away, catching up with his friends.

“You are good at it”, Wong points out, glad. “With children”.  
They walk inside.  
“I’m not. The cloak is.” He dismisses the compliment. The red stole moves around him, flattened. “I should probably go now.” The Sanctorum’s inquilines are already up and he has things to do as well-

  
“Wait” Wong asks before walking down the forecourt and retrieving a small container. “Your tea”

Right. The tea.

“Thank you, Wong” he accepts it with a nod.

“Are you still having problems sleeping?”, the friend asks with a frown.  
Stephen shrugs. “Sometimes. But the tea helps. Thank you.”  
Although, Wong is observing him thoughtfully.  
“Tell me if the tea becomes ineffective.”

Stephen tries to minimize it, joking “I’m a doctor, remember?”

He opens a portal.  
“Yes. But you are not your doctor” Wong throws back at him, a little hopelessly.  
But he is already gone.

 

 

“I have to go now.” The sorcerer admits checking his clock. He barely explained what kind of threats he stand against and what his abilities are.   
“You are rather busy, I understand”. Everett gets up from the seat.  
“Rather. I’m going to return you to your office now. Would you like to come back there now, or the moment I picked you up?”  
Stephen briefly explained him some details related to his ability to move through portals and to time manipulation and it is still odd thinking about it as a real possibility.  
“Uhm..Marthe would probably freak out and call in the whole agency if I went missing after disappearing in the air. So..”  
“That’s ..right.”

Stephen comes closer and he’s already moving his hands when he stops, thinking over something. He lowers his arms and fixes those impossible eyes on his person.  
“What we talked about today – he slowly speaks out – the cooperation, the exchange of information. Think about it. I understand it can be a lot to process. I went through it myself.”  
“You said no strings attached” Everett wonders out loud. The man nods once.  
“I did. I won’t hold it against you if you decide otherwise. I guess I’ll simply continue doing things on my own”, he offers.

The man is able with words and even better with façades. And yet, something in Everett’s instinct detects mixed impressions about those last words. _On my own._  
He sniffs, reflecting in silence. “And if I decide to do this..how am I supposed to get in touch?”  
The other man closes the distance and pocks him on the chest with two fingers, before adding “You will know.” For the first time in their two hours long conversation, Everett allows himself to gaze into the other’s eyes. Stephen holds it up for a moment, before looking away, as if he felt too exposed under his sudden scrutiny. His hands already moving knowingly between them, followed by blazing arrays.

And just like that, Everett is back in the office.

Marthe is standing in front of him with a funny face.  
“Sir..are you all right? I just..I thought I heard something like a knock and I came in and you..you looked almost…where is Mr. Strange?” she notices.  
Everett’s eyes run on the clock. 5:16pm. He did it. Time travel.

“Doctor” he hears himself saying.

“I’m sorry?”

“Doctor Strange. He’s a doctor.” He takes a moment to consider his situation.

  
_‘Then you will decide if we can keep it going or not. No strings attached.’_

Everett takes a sudden decision and cuts off her next question.  
“Marthe, listen. This is an order. You are going to cancel the appointment on the planner and you will not tell anybody about it. Not to the others on this floor, nor to any superior. Until I decide otherwise. Are we clear?”  
She straights up, probably satisfied with taking orders. “Yes, Sir”.

He is not sure why, but he has the impression this is the right thing to do, for now. He has yet to decide if he is going to see Strange again. To trust him enough to try and work together. Looking him up might be a good start, and thanks to the sorcerer, he has the rest of the evening free.  
There is nothing personal in wanting to keep it for himself until he judges appropriate.  
After all, Strange came looking for him, right?  
And if he decides it’s not worth it? Seeking a collaboration with him?

  
_‘I’ll simply continue doing things on my own’_

Everett has still troubles catching the hidden taste of those words.  
The very same he detected when the sorcerer moved away from his gaze.  
“Let’s go home, Marthe. We’re going to call it a day”.

And he has work to do.

 

 

_‘Think about it.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for spending some time reading/commenting on the first chapter!!  
> I'm writing a lot ans since the main plot is already set up, I just need...to keep working!  
> Also, thank you for the corrections, I appreciate them very much.
> 
> I like jumping with flashbacks, memories and all of it. But we're also dealing with time manipulation so..time warning? lol  
> Let me know if it becomes unclear to follow. Hugs


	3. Harlem Meer

 

 

Three days pass.  
By the third, Stephen starts to wonder if he misread the meeting’s mood and sabotaged the whole thing, acting like his usual self.  
Did Everett Ross decided against future involvements with him..or to better say, with the Sanctorum?  
Stephen is spread on his bed, trying to keep his mind occupied with some readings. The thin cotton of his tunic lets him a little too exposed to the chilly temperature of the upcoming autumn. Outside it’s not raining yet, despite the darkening sky.  
Last night, he managed a few hours of sleep and yet they have been far from resting, tinged with wakefulness.  
He rubs his eyes tiredly. He had been dealing with a few new cases during the last weeks, which is likely related to the thefts of several objects in various museums and auction houses both in the U.S and in Europe.  
Whoever is planning it, they are good at covering their doing. The scheme doesn't make sense at all.  
Then, there is the other problem.

His mind goes back to the day Pangborn showed up at the Sanctorum looking for him. If what he told them about Mordo was true, their worries were far from over. In the while, Stephen kept looking for a way to help the man who lead him to Kamartaj. In vain.

He shoves the book aside, sitting up.  
The cloak approaches him, pointing at the tea box, left on the desk by the window.  
“It doesn’t work”, he answers. She looks disappointed. With good reason. He gets up from where he has been lying and glares at her.  
“The tea tastes real good. There is no need to tell him. I’ve always had problems sleeping. It’s not a big deal.”  
The tea helped him a bit. But the effects faded away after nearly three months of him using it. He kept drinking it because he honestly liked it. And Wong insisted.  
He has had periods of dealing with insomnia since he can remember, with highs and lows. But after approaching the mystical arts the problem surfaced again. Stronger than before. After the battle against Kaecilius, it took Wong two months to notice the more and more visible shadows under Stephen’s eyes and he started feeding him with the tea.  
Stephen turns his back to the cloak, ignoring her scowling show. For being a fine piece of fabric, she had the worst temper. No surprise they get along well.  
He observes his own reflex in the mirror. He should shave.  
The cloak keeps trying to get his attention.  
“I told you, I’m fine. Stop fuss-", he scowls her, turning back.  
But she isn’t fussing. She keeps pointing at something on the night stand.  
No. Not something.

  
_‘And if I decide to do this..how am I supposed to get in touch?’_

That afternoon in London, Stephen casted a spell pocking at Ross’ breast pocket. A card with a likable hour and place for their next meeting has been waiting at his bed’s side since he came back from Honk Kong.  
It is now emanating a deem light. A smirk flourishes on his lips.  
“Seems like we succeeded, after all.”  
The cloak rushes to find her place on his shoulder, in an early display of enthusiasm for the now planned meeting.

 

 

 

“The break was fast and smooth. They knocked off most of the guards. The others, they anesthetized them. Wanda Maximov and Sam Wilson are now fugitives, along with Steve Roger and…”  
Everett kind of expected that much after having to deal with Captain Rogers in Berlin. He is no person to leave his men behind. Those in charge of the facility should have foreseen it.  
Thunderbolt has always been an idiot and the current situation is the perfect example. The Avengers broke apart like a castle of cards.  
And they are left with the aftermaths. Everett absently rubs his pencil on the sheet in front of him. The lead leaves a dark, dusty strip of graphite. He moves his wrist and makes a mess of it, hurrying to blow away the proof of his boredom.   
Stark still plays a big role in helping them with urgent emergencies, acting both as Iron Man and as scientific counsellor.  
But there isn’t much agencies can do when you have half the Avengers listed in the no-flight list.  
Therefore, it’s not surprise that Stranger’s offer sound even more tantalizing.  
Everett has been consumed with considerations of all sorts.  
He has been looking for information about Doctor Stephen Strange, of course.  
It’s safe to say he found nothing about his most recent activities. Truth to be told, neither the CIA nor the SHIELD had any relevant intel on sorcerers ’activities nor whereabouts. Just voices.  
About his past, instead..  
As the debrief continues, Everett lets his mind wander, recalling the articles he read during the last days. Asking for official records would have brought up someone’s attention, whereas he wants to keep the whole thing quiet.  
Stephen Strange was a doctor. More like a star in his field. Neurosurgery.  
You don’t do that if you don’t have both stomach and talent.  
Then two years ago, a car accident. That night he was supposed to give a speech at a party. They found his car at the bottom of the sea cliff. He barely made it but the hands’ nerves were compromised. A death sentence for his career.  
This was the surface, Strange’s public persona. More interesting details popped up when Everett dig deeper.  
The colleagues judged him a good person even if he was known as an egocentric, and a thoughtless colleague from time to time.  
Strange stalked every colleague in his field to get help fixing the problem with his hands, and received nothing in return.  
He spent all of his wealth in the search. Ended up selling his own attic. He was left with nothing.  
After that.. he left the country, according to his passport. And vanished. No medical check-ups, no insurance, no bank account ever since.  
What he did during these two years is not clear.  
The conversation they had in London doesn’t help much. It was mostly about Strange' s skills and his own period abroad in Europe during the crisis. The sorcerer told him he learned these techniques from some experts, that he defends Earth from threats related to mystical world.  
His powers range through illusions to the use of portals and time manipulation.  
For as incredible as it might sound-  
His superior pass off some intel about a possible sighting of Ulysses Klaw and he takes a few notes.  
He has the chance to bring in some new powerful-ish (he still has no idea of his actual capacities) player on the board.  
The man reached out for him and Everett can’t help asking himself why Strange chose him. But probably he was just one among a list of possible candidates. He gets up and leaves the room. He has real work to do. Let the others deal with the newspapers.

The office is the same as every other day and yet it seems something in it is out of place.

He knows he wants to.

To understand what Strange is able to do.  
What he found at the end of his path.  
To understand the man behind the doctor. And the sorcerer.

He wants to give it a try.

The fresh memory of sea-water eyes slams back in front of his mind.  
He wants _to know him_.

Everett startles on his seat.

A deem light has started pulsing through the mouth of his chest pocket.  
Where Stephen pocked him, he recalls suddenly.  
He imposes himself to not freak out right away and pulls a hand in. Thank god, he’s alone in the room.  
The light is already fading away. His fingers brush against something.  
Paper. He pulls out.  
A card.

 **Thank you.**  
**Harlem Meer. Next Friday. 3pm. Does it work fine?**  
**Write here. I’ll know.**

The paper is coarse and thirsting for ink under his pen.

_**I’ll meet you there.** _

 

 

Everett enters Central Park a little earlier than he is supposed to.  
Harlem Meer. Friday afternoon isn’t exactly peak hour but there are a lot of people enjoying the weather outside today. He guesses the sorcerer will manage to find him anyway in the crowd, one way or the other.  
Usually, gifted people, Avengers, all of them…they don’t show up in your office being all polite and asking for work.  
They happen.  
And the guys like him, working for the government or on their own, had to deal with the consequences.  
Tony Stark is the top of a long list. But really, they all follow close.  
The one exception until now had been Captain Rogers and after Vienna Everett is not even sure if he’s _still_ on the list.  
Thor’s first visit on Earth resulted in a destroyed city. And he brought Loki on Earth.  
Then New York happened.  
Instead, he now finds himself invited to join his forces with one person who has undeniable powers and seems conscious of the more common rules of coexistence.  
He has still no idea what to do with it. Whit what he knows.  
Everett sights as he finds an unoccupied bench under one of the oaks, next to the pond. The building in front of him loafs around in the warm light of the autumn. The trees have already started changing their colours and painting the waters around him with both watery reflexes and floating foliage.

“Good afternoon”

  
Strange’ s deep voice breaks through the quiet silence around him as he raises his eyes to catch the other’s presence, a little startled.  
“Did you..”  
He waives his hands, to supply for the lack of technical terms. The other man smiles.  
“No. I walked", he says candidly, as if suggesting he wouldn’t move around in any other way.  
He told him he represents his people in New York. Does it mean he l-

  
“Have you been waiting for long?”  
“Not at all. No.”

Stephen sits down himself. He’s wearing more casual clothes. Black trousers, sneakers. A high-necked pullover. And a pair of light gloves. The weather is getting colder day by day but it’s just October. He could have done it without gloves, unless..  
“It’s easier.” Stephen has followed his gaze. “Children tend to get scared sometimes. Parents are even worse.”  
Children?

Ross hasn’t the time to ask what children have to do with him and a group of three girls runs down to their seats and greet the sorcerer, as if they knew him well. Another couple, brother and sister, are walking down the path and point at him smiling.  
“I do magic for them. I come here two, three times a week. They have fun and I pay the bills, to say.” Stephen explains quietly.  
“Saving the day doesn’t make you a billionaire”  
“We’re not all Stark”  
Everett can’t help a chuckle at the remark. “Thank God, the man is a moron”.

Stephen joins him in quiet laughs, and they both go silent for a while.  
“How..” Everett is about to ask something but he stops almost immediately. Maybe he shouldn’t meddle. Although, Shephen encourages him to go ahead.

 “You can ask whatever you want. You trusted me enough to meet again. That’s the least I can do.”

There is a chance he might be lying. If not by choice, by courtesy. And there are a tons of doubts Everett is eager to get rid of, but the first question that popped up in mind has nothing to do with it.  
“How did you ended up entertaining children?”  
Stephen observes him with a puzzled expression.  
“I.. one day I was walking through the park. I run into a boy, about seven years old. He was sad and I .. improvised. Next week, I found him again on the same spot, with a friend. Then they must have spread word. And now they know where to find me, whenever they need to. A couple of times, it happened to scare them off – he waves his hands as to explain – so I wear them anytime I come here.”

  
Stephen pauses for a moment, his lips half parted, looking for the right words. Everett lets him take his time.  
“I suppose you know how I got them by now?”  
The sorcerer knew he would have looked him up. Was he afraid of the picture he might have got from it? He can’t say straight away.

“Car accident. The crash almost killed you.”

Strange smiles, as if he just heard a joke. He stretches his fingers out of reflex.  
“The splinters damaged my nerves, permanently.”

“And you looked for a way to heal them”

Strange’s eyes moves on him again. It looks like they captured Harleem Meer ‘s whole set of colours. The water’s glimmering, the green of the fields, and the reflex of the cloudy sky.

“I did.”

“I..don’t understand. You do use..magic?”  
“Well, we can call it magic. In fact, it’s more like dimensional energy. This dimension, and everything in it, not just tangibly, I mean literally anything that is part of this reality, it is energy. And energy can be used, under the right circumstances. With the right procedures. The pond, right here, the trees, the dog over there, the people, you and me. Everything.”  
“You talked about dimensions..” 

“I can travel through them, understand how they work and use it to enhance my techniques.”

“Why do you need me then?”

One of the many questions that have been waiting on the tip of his tongue.  
Strange seizes him, weighting his next words.  
“The threats Earth faces are increasing on both your side and mine. A threat doesn’t have to be uniquely linked to sorcery. And vice versa. We could do our best exchanging information, previous data and so on. Cooperating. Since I ..took on my role, the work has been increasing. Exponentially. And I think the same goes for you.”  
Everett shrugs, agreeing with him.  
“Why none of your..associates has ever tried to make contact before?”  
“I don’t know." It’s Stephen’s turn to shrug. "My mentor. She has been in charge of things for a long time and she never did.”  
“What did make her change her mind?”  
“She didn’t.”  
The sorcerer moves his attention to the view in front of them.

Oh.

“She passed away. And I..we all try our best to preserve what she gave us. Contacting you is me trying my best.”  
Silence follows. Not awkward. The silence you build up to make space to thoughts. But Everett has already made up his mind.

“And I am going, too”. He decided the moment he sit down on that bench, he realizes.

Stephen stiffens and stares at him with stupor and surging satisfaction. Everett continues.  
“Only a fool would reject your offer, as it is. Jeez – he shakes his head, chuckling- I could use some help, too. But we are going to write down a few rules before getting started.”  
The other turns his torso, for facing him better.

“I am listening”  
“First, you don’t use magic on me without telling me so.”  
“Of course.”

“Second, we follow the rules. It means we don’t leave a mess when we have stuff to deal with. It means we don’t show off and all of it. To make it simple, don’t do anything Stark would do.”  
“I second the request”. Stephen moves one hand to tame a rebel strand, a committed expression on his face.  
God, Everett thinks, this is too good to be real. This man can’t be that perfect-

“Third, agent Ross?”

He suppresses an embarrassed cough in his fist, before concluding.  
“I reserve the right to add more points to the list as we go. In the meantime, it’s Everett.”  
The man in front of him smiles. It’s a little smug, but under the surface Everett can smell a genuine excitement, similar to his own, by any means.

“Stephen, then”.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your love.  
> Please note that I've never been in New York, so I have never seen Central Park in person. All I know is what I can get online. But I fell in love with the idea and went for it. 
> 
> I'm still alive after the Eurovision Week. It was memorable and a lot of people appreciated Italy's song, which I am glad. Moldova, Finland, Ireland and Denmark were also amazing! Thank you Europe :3
> 
> Let me know your impressions/suggestions/..  
> Good week!


	4. Robin Hood

 

 

 

A chilly air has greeted their arrival in the forest, the rising sun still hidden behind the Hawksbill Mountain. It gets better once they start moving.  
“I thought you were a city animal”  
Everett is wearing a worn out black pullover and dark grey trousers. Stephen is so used to see him in a suit he needed a moment to recognize him approaching that morning.  
“Because I live there? I like it, but I love this, too” Stephen climbs over a couple of fallen trunks. “My parents lived in the countryside and I grew up in the middle of nowhere. Nothing to do but to loaf about into the woods.”  
He steals another glance. It also might be due to the fact that Everett didn’t shaved. Which for some reason makes him look.. kind of attractive. Objectively attractive.  
“I bet you played Robin Hood in a hut.”  
“Actually, I used to collect all kind of leaves and stuff like that. Wait..did you?” he asks, curious. He knows nothing about Everett personal life, other than what was written down in his personal file. And they never touched the subject until today.  
Everett shakes his head, chuckling.  
“I lived in Seattle until college. Then I enlisted. Got transferred to Europe for the training in the air force. That’s when I started enjoying the activities outside. Then.. I was back in here and the job takes most of my time.”  
By the tone, it seems to him that Everett is realizing it just now, as they speak.  
“Anyway, I don’t appreciate it so often as I should”, the man adds before asking, “Why did you choose the place? Did you live nearby?”  
“No.”  
Stephen skates over the topic and Everett either doesn’t notice or is kind enough not to push the matter. Knowing him a little better by now, he leans forwards the second hypothesis.  
“I’ve visited a few times and this area is quiet enough not to be disturbed by any chance”  
“Good”  
It’s nice walking across the woods, forgetting about the chaos of the city.  
He promised to show Everett some of the most common arrays and their effect. They agreed upon their need to know each other capacities. Second, if they were involved in a fight, Everett should be able to understand what tricks he was about to use and to take shelter.  
And third, he likes to show off a bit, especially when Everett looks at him in awe. His initial cold-agent-façade, from when they first met, started to melt away that day in Central Park and has now disappeared.  
“Here we are.” The sound of running water welcomes them in the clearing.  
“This is..” Everett surpasses him, throwing his pack on the soil.  
The leaves are turning red and gold, day by day, merging with deep green.  
“You should see it during summer.”

He adjusts his own bag against a tree and approaches the small river, where Everett is standing. The man assumes a more alert posture.  
“So, from what shall we start?”  
Stephen hasn’t thought about it yet. He takes time changing into his usual tunic, as he reasons out loud. “I would skip the part where I scare you to death with multidimensional jumping. We could start with simple manipulations, and then-“  
But the other man is observing him with a raised eyebrow and a ..smirk? Yes, definitely a smirk.  
It’s new.  
He points him up and down a couple of times. “What is ..that?  
Oh  
“It’s just clothes.”  
The agent comes closer as he talks.  
“You will be the heart at the parties” he says, more to himself.  
He’s clearly teasing him, but the gleam of his glance is all but malevolent.  
Everett has kind eyes.  
He had a glimpse of it when he entered his office the first time, and later when they stared at each other in the club.  
However, he had his confirmation during the following meeting when-  
“ _Who_ a..what are you doing?”  
Stephen shakes himself out of his silly considerations. The cloak decided to introduce herself by caressing the other’s thigh. Holy Jesus.  
“It’s her. You keep complimenting and I won’t be responsible for what happens”. Then to the cloak, “Come on, behave”. She lets go.  
“The cape is..alive”  
“Of course she is alive”.  
The real point is that she could at least pretend to behave in front of other people.  
“There are several mystical objects around the world. Sometimes, they choose to serve sorcerers.” He explains. The other man nods, archiving the information. “Do they choose the good guys only?”  
Stephen’s mind goes to Mordo, and his defection. The idea that there might be still some good left in him is too tempting to ignore completely. He sights.  
“I like to think so. By the way, this is known as the Cloak of Levitation”.  
Everett’s eyebrows arches.  
“Levitation? Like..?”  
Stephen pushes his feet on the ground and the crimson companion does all the rest. He raises for about three meters and keeps floating in front of the astonished partner.  
“ _Jesus Ch-_ ”  
“I’m not walking on waters, Everett.”  
“Shut up” the man scolds him, still shocked.  
Stephen laughs in response but the other’s immediate question cut him off.  
“How high can you fly with that?”  
The smile on Everett’s face has no price, he realizes.  
It’s gonna be a long day.

 

It’s half past two in the afternoon when they decide to stop for a break.  
Stephen is handing to him a bottle of water and Everett adjusts again against one of the rocks. The remains of their food -not much, really- lay between them.  
“We could have roast a deer”, Everett jokes.  
“Sure, if we had five days at disposal…  
“Five days? _Come on-_ “  
“..and if we weren’t in a protected area”  
“Fine. Your win” Everett rolls his eyes, still chuckling.  
Stephen smiles at the friend’s show of utter defeat.  
“Listen”, Everett plays with a couple of twigs next to his boot, “We have just acquired a few items. Once they were storage in the Afterlife. We’re still waiting the evaluation from the Labs. But I’ve been wondering if you’d take a look at them. Just to understand how dangerous we are talking.”  
Among other things, Everett explained him everything he knew about the Inhumans, included their long-lived community and the events that brought to its end. The place survived for hundreds of years, undisturbed and highly guarded. It’s no surprise if they gathered potential enchanted items on the way.  
Also, it’s the first time one they have an actual chance for working together.  
“Of course, sure”.  
“Great. So, umh.. What if we meet up tomorrow night. My office?”  
Everett stopped playing with the twigs and is seizing him.  
“Yes, it’s fine”.  
“Ok. Ok”. The man nods, glad, as he moistens his lips absently.  
And Stephen catches himself staring.  
“I guess it’s my turn now” the other man adds, standing up.  
He needs a second to reboot his synapses.  
“What about?”  
Everett declines his question and rummages in his backup to pull out a leather box.  
Oh.  
“From your file, I get that you are not trained in the use of guns. Unless you did something else in that hut other than playing Darwin?”  
“I most certainly didn’t”, he admits with a heavy tone, standing up himself.  
“Fine then, you are about to.”  
“Everett, I can’t” Stephen tries his best to not sound rude. “My shaking is too severe, I will never take a clear shot. I’m a liability if I can’t use them properly.”  
It’s a half-truth. One that he is not willing to face himself. But Everett doesn’t need to know.  
“I don’t want to turn you into a sniper. But you need to understand how they work, at least to be aware of what you’re up against.”  
He doesn’t move and the other sights, deciding to pile over in the attempt to break through his reservations.  
“Or in case of emergency, to save yourself. You don’t need a clear shot to survive. Please?”  
Apparently, Everett Ross has persuasion on his list of gifts. Enough to make him give in, anyway.  
“Show me”

Everett guides him through the general training and assembling. Then the gun is in his hands and ready to be used. A few plastic targets hang from the trees.  
“You better have a good standing position, like this, whenever you can. Feet and shoulders aligned.” Everett shows him before handing the weapon. “Now..take aim but stay put”.  
Stephen fixes his eyes in front of him. The hands tremble and the gun’s sight with them.  
A firm touch on his neck makes him flinch. The friend’s low voice comes to guide him.  
“Your shoulders, relax them. You’re too tense”  
He also adjusts the arms’ height, pulling them a little lower.  
“I shouldn’t-“  
“I’m gonna stay behind you. The only things you can harm are trees.”  
Stephen takes a deep breath, and aims at the target before pulling the trigger.

 

The sun has set down by the time they pop out of the portal, in a secondary alley next to Madison Avenue.  
“Back in the Apple” Stephen announces. He turned his clothes again before coming back. The cloak, now invisible, acts her usual self and tries to grab Everett’s sleeve again. He hurries to hold her.  
“Thank you. For today.” Everett smiles at him, relaxed. “I had fun”  
“Me too”. It’s true.  
“Despite the guns”  
Apparently, Everett started to read him way too well. He smiles widely, giving in.  
“ _Despite the guns_ ”  
“Trees won’t haunt you by night”. A warm hand finds her place on Stephen forearm, squeezing it, reassuringly.  
It remains there. It’s nice.  
“I wouldn’t be so sure”.  
It feels unnaturally familiar.  
“We’ll see” Everett grins, before moving to hail one of the taxis.  
And the touch is gone.  
A driver approaches them.  
Everett is about to open the door but he precedes him. Everett gets on.  
“See you tomorrow Stephen”  
He closes it and mouths a bye while the car pulls off.  
It plunges in the traffic leaving him unsure against the sudden realization he would have gladly spent more time with Everett.

 

 

 

When he enters his rooms, the library’s lights are on.  
Wong.  
“Stephen”.  
“Good evening”. The friend is reading, comfortably sit on one of the armchairs.  
He interrupts his activities and looks at him expectantly, for some reason.  
“You forgot”, he declares eventually.  
“What?”  
“We were having pizza.”  
He stills.  
“I..forgot. Just. Give me a moment to shower and-“ he is already moving when the sorcerer’s question stops him.  
“Are you seeing someone?”  
He jerks back, in shock for such a question. “What? No.”  
“Yes, you are”  
“I told you I am not”.  
The cloak moves away from his shoulders and goes resting next to Wong.  
“Interesting”  
His friend makes wrong deductions about him and he is mocked by two meters and half of fabric.  
“How has this become my life?” he asks to the both of them before heading for the bedroom, pissed. Wong follows him.  
“Then tell me what you are up to. Do you think I didn’t notice how much more time have you been spending out in the last weeks? You are not the kind of person that simply forgets something”  
There is no point hiding it any longer. Not that he was hiding,just.. postponing.  
“I’ve been working with a CIA agent.” At Wong’s surprised glare he adds, “I thought it could be useful to develop some kind of cooperation.”  
“And how much does he know? About us, this place-“  
Stephen shakes his head. “Just about me. That I am not the only one. For now.” He start undressing.  
“Is this a good idea? I can see the advantages of it, but have you considered the risks?”  
“I’m not dumb, Wong. I chose carefully.”  
“I don’t doubt it but you don’t know if he is going to keep the promises he’s made. He might be a good person, but governments have their agenda to take care of, and knowing that they have –“  
“Unless Everett becomes an issue, there is nothing to talk about”  
“And what if-“  
“ _I trust him!_ ”  
Whatever Wong is about to say, he’s just cut him off. It has been a long day, he didn’t sleep -what’s new?- he didn’t planned on discussing this and he might have overreacted.  
“Sorry. But please, believe me, I know what I am doing.”  
Wong observes him with an unreadable expression. “I hope you are right."He pauses, "And by the way, you owe me dinner.”  
“Of course, I do. Thank you”  
Wong smiles briefly before leaving.  
The cloak looks at him, tilting her collar in a wondering attitude.  
Stephen shakes his head, done with this psychanalysis. “Shower. I need a shower”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all thank you everyone, for your messages and kudos. I always cherish them! 
> 
> Notes:  
> 1\. I found inspiration looking at photos of Shenandoah National Park, on the Appalachian Mountains.  
> What do you think of this trip? I think the chapter is more centered on Stephen's pov. Is it confusing?  
> 2\. When Everett says ok and moistens his lips..OF COURSE I had in mind that marvellous piece of work that is the dinner at Angelo's in A Study in Pink. I know you know, but cuddle yourself and watch it again. It's so pure and perfect.  
> 3\. The suggestion Everett gives about guns are not necessary correct. I used to do archery years ago and I assumed the same rules could work in this case, for the sake of narration. Also..hot teacher!mode ON
> 
> Bye <3


	5. Extraction

Wong’s admonishments still echo in his head as he shows up inside Everett’s office. He didn’t have doubts about him. What surprised him was his own reaction at Wong’s comments, that likely touched some unknown spot within himself. He promised himself to act more professionally. It’s a little harder to remember that when Everett smiles at him like if he waited for him the whole day.  
“Good evening”  
It’s half past 2am and even if the floor is not as crowded as by day, Everett asked him to show up directly in his office.  
“Here you are.”  
He smiles back, feeling some of the tension he has been piling up since yesterday fade away. Only to remember that he made a point of putting the work first.  
“Listen, the objects are in quarantine and even if I have the credentials to inspect them, taking you with me would raise more than one question and-“  
“Better to go unnoticed?”. Here, very professional. No problem at all.  
“To say. Yeah”. A barely noticeable crease makes its way between Everett’s eyebrows, as the man observes him. Stephen hurries to look away and asking instead, “The room’s position?”  
“Fifth level underground. Third room on the left.”  
He opens the portal and manages to bewitch to cameras before they step in.  
“No one is going to notice we are here.”

 

It takes Stephen a good hour to go through the various containment boxes and to exclude the presence of enchanted tools, without actually having them in his hands.  
He can feel Everett’s eyes on him but he makes a point to act flawlessly. That’s it. Work.  
“We are lucky.” He declares, in the end. He just finished checking the last box. “As far as I can see, these objects have no magical sources or characteristics. They might still be dangerous, but that goes beyond my expertise.”  
He dares to look at the other man. Again, the frown. He speaks, sounding sincerely sorry. Almost sad, actually.  
“I am sorry that I bothered you for nothing.”  
Goodbye to his professional-ish purposes.  
His hand has already moved to grab Everett’s shoulder, to reassure him. “Don’t even say it. Besides, we do know that now.”  
Everett seizes him for a moment before his eyes wide again with relief.  
That’s when Stephen realizes to be an idiot at human relations.  
Even if it started out as a simple collaboration, by now a good friendship came in their way and that’s why whenever he’s with Everett, he feels like this. What happened with Wong is his own problem, and he shouldn’t have poured it on the other man.  
“Everett I should ap-”, he starts only to interrupt mid-sentence, having noticed something on the table behind the friend.  
“What?”  
Stephen’s hand is still on his shoulder. He breaks apart and points at what he saw.  
“Everett. This one. Is this related to them?”. He walks closer and Everett imitates him, curious.  
“No, another case. Trying to catch a dealer. Well, dealer doesn’t even begin to cover.” Stephen raises his glance, encouraging him to explain. The man shrugs. “Killer, smuggler, trader. African League has had him on his blacklist for fifteen years. Why?”  
He feels a grin showing up on his lips.  
“Our night might be far from unfruitful”. He hurries to makes himself clear, “I have been working on a case, recently. I think they might be linked.”  
Everett crosses his arms, interested.  
“Really? How?”  
“In the last months, I had received a big number of requests...Other sorcerers from various locations, reporting of numerous stealing of enchanted object, or items required to cast spells. Anyway, I have been troubles understanding their scheme. And this one”, he points at the comb, “I’m sure it’s one of the pieces missing. It’s from a little museum in Antwerp.”  
“Is it..dangerous?”  
“Oh..no. don’t worry. It neeed the other piece, a mirror, to work. Like this, it’s armless.”  
“We are having trouble, too. No significant lead so far. Up until today, this is the only thing he happened to leave behind and we had no idea of what it was, or where it came from.”  
“Maybe it’s not the same person. It makes sense”  
The first call came around one year and half ago. The others followed shortly, increasing by number. Unfortunately, he and the other sorcerers also had to deal with Mordo’s defection and its new..vocation. Pangborn was just the first one of a now regretfully long list of aggressions. In both cases, the aim is the same. Eliminating magic. He thought the thefts were all Mordo’s doing. At least six of them, he’s sure. But what if someone else was targeting enchanted objects, beside Mordo? That would explain why he couldn’t understand how they worked. Or maybe they didn’t even know what they were taking..  
“What?”  
“Nothing..I..was thinking out loud.”  
“I should probably check within my contacts in the area. Something might pop up. Lets’ go back.”. They step back in the office, void and silent as they left it. “Yeah. Good idea.” On the other hand, he needs to update Wong as soon as possible about his hunch. Everett offers him something to drink.  
“Everything all right?” he asks, handing a glass of sparkling water. He frowns at the other man’s bad hidden concern.  
“Yes, it is.” Why shouldn’t he be?  
“You seemed a little off when you came in.”  
Ah.  
“Sorry..I have been trouble sleeping, recently. That must be it.” An half-truth.  
“Nightmares?”. The other man guesses, politely looking at the bottom of his glass.  
“Sometimes, when insomnia lets them.” He admits easily. This, totally true.  
“I should probably try not summoning you in the middle of the night, then”  
“You can call me whenever you want”. He puts down the empty glass.  
“Should probably go. Still a couple of stops before calling it the day.”  
“I’ll let you know if we find something.”

 

It doesn’t take long. The day after Stephen wakes up from a restless sleep at the obnoxious sound of the ringing phone. Everett’s number.  
“H-llo?”  
“Stephen, hi. It’s me. I have news for you.”  
“You found him” he guesses from Everett’s excited tone.  
“Could we meet? I’d prefer to talk to you in person?”  
“Yes.” He stands up sitting. He had better hangovers.  
“Where? Your office? Or-”  
“Do you know my apartment’s address?” He doesn’t, so Everett explains before being called by someone- probably Marthe.  
“See you there in an hour.” He says, before hanging up.  
Everett lives in a building next to St. Mary’s Park. Stephen did read the address when he looked him up, months ago, but did remove the information afterwards.  
The area is quiet, and still, busy enough to not be considered boring. There are schools, little ateliers, cinemas.  
He can’t repress a rush of curiosity as he knocks twice at the white door. Apartment 25.  
He hears someone approaching and then the door opens.  
“Stephen, hi.” “Please, come in”.  
The entrance is directly connected to the living room, giving the small flat a wider view. Soft colours rule the walls and the furniture, nicely improved with some lively paintings. There is a blue couch in front of the tv, the open kitchen on the right side. A bookshelf, a very nice stereo on it.  
Everett moves to show him in and that’s when he notices the suitcase open in front of the couch. He’s leaving.  
“What’s going on?”  
“We found a lead on Klaw. Apparently, he wasn’t that good at hiding this time. An old contact of his lives in Antwerp. We arrested him. It turns out he’s about to sell a good amount of vibranium to an intermediary. We caught the person who was about to deal with him. Klaw has the finger in every pie. But to us, he’s a person of interest for a reason, above all. He is one of the few people knowing very well -and trading- vibranium.”  
“What is it?”  
“A unique metal, stronger than any other material known on Earth. During WWII, Captain Roger’s shield was made with it, meant as a prototype, by Howard Stark.” Everett explains, before continuing. “The exchange is set in Seoul. I’ve been ordered to take the intermediary’s place. Once the vibranium is secured, we are going to arrest him.”  
“Wait a minute. Are you just going to..go there and have a chat with him, and then what?”  
There were a thousand possibilities this might go very, very wrong. And Stephen didn’t need the Eye of Agamotto to say it.  
“I’m not planning to get killed, if that’s what you’re asking. My cover is fine, it’s gonna be by the book.”  
“You can’t know. Besides, since when it’s a good idea to deal with them? Can’t someone just arrest him the moment he shows up?”  
“The vibranium is top priority.”  
“So it’s fine if he gets away as long as you buy the thing?”  
“Of course not! We have been trying to drive him out since 2004! This is our best chance to catch him but-”  
“You don't barter with the bad guys-“  
“Don’t even-“  
“-that way good people aren't better than them!"  
As soon as words have left his mouth, Stephen realizes just how bad they sound in this context. Everett’s pissed glare piercing him confirms it. Just like his next words.  
"Thank you for sharing your unique point of view". He exhales, angry.  
"Everett-" The other man has turned to close the luggage, but his head jerks back to shut him up. He stands up again to face him.  
"No. No, seriously, _I get it!_ We go digging mud and end up dirty ourselves."  
"I didn’t-"  
The phone rings suddenly, interrupting them. Everett swears before taking it.  
"Ross. Yes. … Ye-Yes, extraction confirmed. Departure time?... Copy that." He hangs up.  
"I have to go. They will be here shortly." Everett take s a folder from the table and gives it to him. “I called you for this. It’s a copy of our files about the theft. There are similar cases, it’s all here. This way you can cross-check the data with yours.”  
“Thank you.”  
They exit the apartment in silence. Everett closes the door before addressing him.  
“See you when I’m back?” Everett says. He is still looking at him with a cloudy glare.  
“Of course. Take care”.  
Take care? He can do better than this. He should probably apologize, but there is no time and he has still to decide how he feels about the whole deal-thing. Ten minutes ago, he walked in excited and now he just had a discussion with one of the few friends he had. Marvellous.  
Everett huffs, he can’t say if it’s a repressed sight, an exasperated laugh or what. But it’s something.  
“You, too.”

 

 

If it wasn’t for Stephen, he wouldn’t have found out about Klaw’s plans.  
If it wasn’t for Stephen, he wouldn’t be on a fourteen hours long flight toward Seoul.  
If it wasn’t for Stephen, he wouldn’t have this giant headache threatening to drive him crazy.

Did Stephen think it about him, too?  
Of course, he saw red listening at the friend’s objection, and not because of them themselves.  
Everett agreed one hundred percent with it.  
But CIA doesn’t like disobedient agents. Or agent with a moral agenda.  
Even he couldn’t help it when it came to direct orders. He was lucky that it was just about a piece of metal. During his years of service, he saw far worse.  
He closes his eyes, trying to focus on something else altogether.  
Nightmares come with the package when you choose this kind of job.  
It’s only reasonable to think that someone like Stephen could have the same problem. The worst thing is waking up, in terror, all by yourself. Something else they clearly had in common. He wasn’t successful at lasting relationships, let alone now that he got a promotion. And Stephen never mentioned someone close to him. And yesterday’s conversation only fed his suspects.  
Not that he spent time wondering about Stephen’s private life, of course.  
Or about where he lived. He was mostly sure his Sanctorum, as he called it, is located in New York. They have been very respectful of each other’s spaces and privacy, but if Stephen did it out of courtesy, he has a good reason to do so. This Sanctorum is Stephen’s home, and other people’s, too. A place where they feel safe, protected. Last thing he wants is to expose them, to the outer world and to the agency. Which he managed to keep in the dark about their partnership, so far.  
Neither Stephen had seen his home.  
Until today..  
He is still definitely angry at him for how he reacted.  
..Even if, considered the fact he’s been sleepless and he drag him out of bed – he caught up the low, drowsy voice at the phone, that morning- ..  
Christ, he might have overreacted a bit.  
Everett picks the bridge of his nose, trying to calm down.  
Seriously, he hates intercontinental flights. It’s all about crappy music and time to think stupid thing like these, like why Stephen doesn’t have someone to wake him up and- ..he should probably mind his own bus-  
“Sir. We’re almost there.”  
_Thank God._  
He sets his clock ahead with Seoul time zone.  
It’s 4pm.

 

It’s 1am.  
The clinking of poker chips and the chatting are cut off abruptly by the unmistakeable sound of a body hitting the floor. A woman kicking her attacker off the balustrade.  
Not just a woman. Wakandan.  
Everett has the tactical time to raise the steel briefcase before the shoots starts cutting through the air around them and to find shelter behind a poker table, knocked over by T’Challa.  
Maybe Stephen was right, after all.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some troubles for our dear beans!! But trust me, I'm going to make up for it soon enough!  
> Of course the end of the chapter collides with the beginning of Black Panther <3  
> In this ff I assume the events of the movie take place at least three months after Civil War because I needed time for Everett and Stephen to know each other (not just three days XD) and also because, let's be realistic whenever a monarch dies, there is a period of official grieving before a new heir takes his/her place. Sorry if I messed up the official timeline (which is a little unclear anyway lol).  
> See you next week!!


	6. Starving

The line sounds dead after another attempt.

Stephen realized soon enough to have acted like a moron. Yes, he might have his own ideas about how agencies acted. Often their actions lingered in a grey area between legal, proper behaviour and questionable decisions. But even in that case, his reaction had little to do with it.

He was worried.

When Everett said he would have met with that men, he got stricken by a violent mass of anxiety. And he spoke carelessly. He should have stopped considering that Everett probably had his own reserves about it.

He waited almost forty-eight hours, because of the mission. However, after three days he’s still waiting to hear back from him. And at this point phone calls are not going to fix the mess he made.

Stephen stares at the black screen of the phone, silently registering the cloak attempts to console him.

“Let’s go out”, he prompts. Headache had been tormenting him for days now and today doesn't seem any different. The damn insomnia. Walking usually helps, but right now he needs to move to keep his nerves at bait as well.

At such an early hour, the streets outside Everett’s apartment are crowded with students heading to the schools, busy parents on their cars and swearing suppliers. Stephen does his best to dodge the pedestrians and enters the building thanks to a couple on their way out.

Everett made him promise not to use magic on him, and opening a portal in his living room shouldn’t break the rule. Still. He knocks at the door and waits. Nothing. He leans closer to the door, an arm raised and his forehead resting against it.

"Everett, it's me. Are you in?"

The far sound of chattering intrudes through the window.  
He knocks again.

Is he in the office? Maybe he really did mess up badly.

He is weighing the pros of showing up at the CIA unannounced when his phone starts ringing in his pocket.

But it isn’t Everett calling.  
It’s Christine.  
“Hello?”  
"Hi, Stephen. I'm sorry to call you this early. A woman just came in. She is looking for you. I told her you don’t work here anymore but-"  
"Who is she?". If she came first thing in the morning there is something going on.  
"Marthe. She says she absolutely needs to get in touch with you. It's about her boss-"  
His heart skips a couple beats.  
"I'm coming", he cuts her off before hanging up.

The two women are waiting for him in the hall. "You are Everett's colleague", he greets her as they move further inside the hospital. They occupy an empty room next to his old ward.

She is tense, he notices. And she is clearly betraying the jetlag. Then she went in Korea, too. And came back-

"Doctor. Mr.Ross always recommended to be careful about getting in touch with you but-" she tries to justify her behaviour, "-he doesn't want to expose you and your people to the media or to the agency if he can help it.”  
Of course he would do that, Stephen thinks processing the revelation. But why didn’t Everett come?  
He asks instead, "Is he still in Seoul?"  
"He..he got shot"

The meaning should be crystal clear. God, how many times did he hear those same words in his ward, in surgery, in the waiting room crowded with relatives? And yet they sound wrong, almost unrealistic. But the clash between their wrongness and reality – Everett’s longer absences, Marthe’s deep concern – throws his mind into chaos. His mouth has gone dry. "The deal.." he murmurs, not even looking at her anymore. In front of his eyes, a reply of his last conversation -discussion, his guilty brain amends for him- he had with Everett.  
Marthe nods anyway, explaining.

"Prince T'Challa of Wakanda was there, too. With reinforcements. They later managed to secure Klaw”. Her heavy tone suggests troubles.  
Christine is a silent viewer of their exchange.  
“What happened?”, he presses.  
"His men assaulted the facility during the interrogation. Mr. Ross shielded the woman who was accompanying T’Challa and-  
“Where did you take him?” Stephen cuts her off. She looks lost for a moment, so he focuses to make himself clear, resisting the urge to scroll her by the shoulders. His hands stop midway.  
"Which hospital? Severance? Asan Medical Cent-?

She shakes her head vigorously, waving her hands to interrupt him. "That's..why I am here. He is no longer in Korea. Prince T'Challa insisted to treat him in Wakanda. The situation is very critical and he promised they have the technology to help him but-"  
"How critical?"  
"The bullet went through the spinal column."

Something clicks in Stephen's head. A dangerous switch, turning the overwhelming panic into fury. Into action.

He is out of the room without even be conscious of his movements. Christine already behind him.

"Stephen!"

He doesn’t listen to her. He storms inside one of the offices and doesn’t waste time, already moving to open the portal toward Birnin Zana, Wakanda’s capital.

"Stephen!"

The usual rush of lights takes place. He takes one step ahead, already prepared to walk through when he must stop. The ring isn't widening to create a viable passage and fades away.  
He tries once again as Christine joins him.  
Then again. The same.  
"Fuck."

He lands a fist on the desk, trying to breath in and out. To calm down. His headache turned into a persistent pain. He closes his eyes, trying to ignore it.

 

"Stephen? What’s going on?". The woman brushes his back, clearly worried and willing to offer some comfort.  
"I can't open a portal to Wakanda. And I have no idea of the reason."  
"Who is he?"  
"A CIA agent. I have been working with him -"  
"No..who is he to you".  
Wong demanded to know as well why he was so caught up with him. Why did he-  
Wong.  
Wong will know.  
"I have to go"

 

Kamartaj. The sun already set down in the sanctuary when Stephen makes his appearance in the library.

Wong startles, a little surprised. "Strange!"  
The bundle of noodles he was about to gulp splashes down in the bowl. The portal closes and he storms inside the room, not in the capacity to hold back his behaviour. "Why can't I open a portal to Wakanda?!".  
"Why were you trying to reach-"  
"Wong, not now!"  
The friend is observing him, a worried frown deepening seconds by seconds as he weights his state.  
He abandons his dinner and stands up.  
"There are barriers in place.” he reveals, “Wakanda has a long tradition of shamanism. They casted powerful spells, when the first king unified the tribes. It's meant as a protection. Whenever a sorcerer needed to visit, we contact them with an array and they allow us to pass through.”

“Ask them.”

If what Marthe said is true, then Everett hasn’t much time to waste. God, he might-  
“No.” Wong crosses his arms and glares at him. “Not until you tell me what's going on.”. Stephen brushes both hands on his face before explaining. “Everett got shot. They're treating him there. And I cannot understand how a third world country can help him more than a modern hosp-"  
Wong’s unexpected grin makes him stop mid sentence.  
"You would change your mind. Wakanda is good at keeping its secrets as much as we are. Come with me"

Wong pulls out a grimoire not so much different from the one Kaecilius stole no more than two years ago. He touches a colourful array inside the pages. At the centre, Stephen can recognize the figure of a panther. He activates it and leaves the book open on the table.  
"They should answer shortly."

Stephen nods absently and resumes his walking around the room. Worry has been crawling inside him for the last few days. He knew he messed up with Everett but now..

Now he is fighting against fear. He should have talked Everett out of it. If he didn’t notice the damn comb that night, now he would be safe.

Another stab of paint goes through him, reaching his head. He stops, wincing.

“Stephen? Are you ok?”  
He nods, dismissing the question. He can’t do nothing but keep waiting. Fifteen minutes pass.  
"There is something off. One of them should be answering." Wong voices his own doubts.  
"What does it mean?"  
"Maybe nothing. But until we hear from them, we’ll be unable to open a passage.”  
No portal.

Everett is on his own. Everett-

Another stab makes him recoil. It lasts longer. He moves closer to one of the tables, to lean against it. Jesus.  
Wong is right beside him. "Stephen!"  
"Just. A moment"

 

“Stay here” Wong orders him, as he makes him sit down. He leaves the room just to come back with a filled cup.

“Drink it”. He commands. “What is it?”, he asks, doing as he asked.

Wong is not going to poison him, after all. Even if he’s looking at him very, very angrily.

"When did it stop working? The tea?”

Stephen can’t believe he’s asking about the bloody tea when they are stuck here and-

He answers without reserve. "It never worked Wong. It helped. For a couple months. I drink it anyway but I haven't had a good sleep since-"  
"Your insomnia."  
"What about it?". He closes his eyes again. It’s better this time. What the hell did Wong give him?

"Extraordinary mystical powers cause it.”

The sorcerer looks at the friend with an incredulous glare. “Did you give me Asgardian alcohol?”

If it weren’t for the stab in his stomach, the thought of Everett fighting for his life, it would almost be funny.  
Wong shakes his head, exasperated. “You should have told me sooner. You don’t-“  
“This is no sense - Stephen interrupts his scolding- I have always had it, even when I was a boy. I just need some rest.”  
"When was the last time you slept?" the other counterattacks.  
"I..three days ago I had some sleep". The fact that he sounded unsure himself was answer enough for Wong.  
“What about the headaches? How long?"  
“I..a week, more or less.”  
“Did something happen?”  
“What am I –“ he stops before finishing his rhetoric question, washed away by the facts.

They argued. They argued and Everett left. And now-  
Wong reads his reactions like an open book.  
"Your feelings.."

His feelings

For Everett

Stephen doesn’t want to listen anymore. Not this. Not now.  
"There are no feelings. It's just work." He snaps, standing up.  
"We don't mix them with magic."  
He stares back at the friend. "That's harsh, even for you".  
Wong sits down in front of him. "I don't mean like that. Feelings can affect your magic. If you are not careful, they..feed it."  
"What do you mean?"  
"Emotions can fuel your magic. Create it. But it requires a strong mind to sustain the stress. Whereas many powerful sorcerers travelled through the dimensions once, nowadays we are too weak in comparison to manage it."  
Stephen squeezes his eyes, feeling tired and powerless. Wong’s words make no sense. And something inside him is unwilling to let him continue this conversation. As for the shamans, if someone makes contact, Wong can always contact him. But instinct tells him it won’t be soon. He should go back in New York. At least, he can contact Marthe asking if anything came up.  
"See? No reason to worry. Not that there is need to-"  
"You are the exception here, Stephen”. He stills, unease as Wong keeps talking.  
"You learned quickly. Your abilities are a gift. You are incredibly clever but that day, here in the library, Mordo was right. Cleverness alone can't explain your talent. I had my suspects but I wasn’t sure.”His face fills with wonder as he continues, “The Ancient One must have recognized your potential the moment you showed up at her doorstep. She knew she had just found a proper successor."  
Stephen shakes his head, walking away from him. He has no intention to keep this conversation going.  
“Thanks for the drink. Call me if they contact us.” Wong seems to give up, at least for now, to keep the conversation going and dismisses him sighting heavily.  
“Of course. Think about what I said. If you get worse, come back here.”  
After catching up with Marthe, Stephen can’t do much more and returns to the Sanctorum. He checks the phone while changing his clothes. He should go apologizing with Christine for his behaviour. But right now all he can think about..  
The bed feels oddly welcoming as he lays down.  
Is Everett going to be ok? What if they condemned him to death instead of saving him?  
Last thing he told him was to take care. If it was in his power, Everett would have listen, right?  
Does he have feelings for him, like Wong said? Of course not. But then, why did he panicked when he found out what happened? Would have he reacted like this three months ago? Would he, with someone else?  
The truth is, Everett affected him in more than one way and ..  
Wong definitely gave him Asgardian alcohol, he has the will to think as he drifts into sleep.

 

There are two days of absolute nothing, where Stephen switches between wait and highly debatable ideas, like showing up at the Wakandan border and demand to speak with someone in charge. He spoke with Marthe, who had no news to share apart from the fact that they were having troubles reaching Prince T’Challa as well. She talked him out of it, afraid of possible political consequences. In the end, all they could do was waiting.  
He is walking in Central Park, trying to do something other than staring at the wall of his room. Or Christine’s office’s. The street lamps enlighten the sidewalk wet with rain as he steps outside, meeting a few couple on his way. Friday night. Probably they’re all dates. He’s just reached the exit toward 7th Avenue when the phone vibrates.  
A message. From Everett’s number.  
My apartment. Can we meet there?  
He doesn’t finish typing an answer, and he is already moving.

The knock against the wood door are a little too loud, but Stephen doesn’t care. He’s about to knock again when it opens.  
And Everett is standing in front of him, in a light grey jumpsuit, and half parted lips. He grins, silently.  
“Hi”, Stephen murmurs, more than a little shocked. How can he be standing?  
“Hi..uhm, come in”. He steps aside and shows him in.  
Stephen does. The door closes and he remembers how to speak.  
“Are you..ok?”. He can’t be. He was shot.  
“Perfectly fine” Everett’s smile widens.  
“Marthe came looking for me. She said-” Everett nods, rubbing his nape.  
“I know, she told me. I’m sorry-”  
“Weren’t you shot?” Stephen interrupts him, lost.  
“Oh. Yes, I did get shot. Long story short, a teen genius played Operation and fixed me up.”  
Stephen is pretty sure his mouth has disconnected for good this time. His brain. Both.  
He should be in a hospital. Awake, he concedes. But definitely not-  
“Please, stop staring, I told I’m fine”, Everett scuffs, a soft shade of pink spreading on his skin.  
“They shot you three days ago. How can you-” he steps closer, dripping worry. He shouldn’t push himself, it’s a miracle he managed to fly back in New York-  
The other man rolls his eyes, a little amused by his concerns, and grabs his wrist.  
“You are the doctor, see for yourself.”  
Everett has pull up the shirt and brings one of Stephen’s hands on his bare side. His eyes widen at the contact. Stephen’s hands are probably cold from having been outside.  
That’s the only foreign thought registering in Stephen’s mind, other than the simple observation that he is now touching Everett.  
His trembling fingers linger on the spot for a moment, before shyly moving up and down, inspecting the area where the bullet came in. He lowers to take a better look. Then he moves to inspect Everett’s spine and the friend indulges him patiently. This close to the other man, Stephen can smell mint and rosemary, with a touch of something woodsy.  
“If I didn’t know, I’d believe you made the whole thing up.” He murmurs distractedly, checking his vertabraes one by one. The other simply hums. “I wasn’t that mad”, Everett admits ironic a second later, his head tilted enough to spy the other’s man reaction.  
Stephen stills. His hands did as well, as he straights up without removing them completely.  
“I..Everett, I-”.  
“Don’t worry, I didn’t mean-”. The friend is already coming in his aid, but he quietly shushes him, bringing an hand back on his side. He needs to make things clear.  
“No, listen. I am sorry for what I said. I was tired and snappy and I might have a few prejudices to overcome. But I never, for one second, thought it about you.”  
“O-Ok.” Everett murmurs, eyes fixed on him, as the usual smile slowly come back on his lips.  
Stephen remembers how to let go of him, the tension finally starting to fade away. He is safe.  
“By the way” Everett adds, breaking the silence, “I used what happened as an excuse to ask for a medical leave. I couldn’t let them know just how healed I am. Except I’ve been couching all day and I’m fed up.”  
“I would never say” he jokes, doing his best to keep a serious face. He fails.  
“Moron.”  
Stephen laughs and brushes his hair back.  
“Dinner?”  
He startles, and Everett must have misunderstood his reaction because he hurries to add an excuse. “I mean, if you already have-“  
“I’m starving.”  
They remain silent for a moment.  
“Ah- Great. I..there is a place, nearby. Do you like spicy?”  
Stephen opens the door, a warm feeling at the bottom of his stomach. Likely hunger.  
“Lead the way, agent.”

 

The place turns out to be a nice, cosy Mexican restaurant next to the park. The girls are so welcoming. Everett must be a regular. The food is great. And the colourful details scattered all around them only seem to mirror the happiness of having Everett back, safe and sound.  
“I’d have never imagined you might be fond of Mexican food”, Stephen admits halfway through the dinner.  
“My nanny was Mexican. She raised me up with tacos and quesadillas. Ohi, don’t-”  
Stephen is trying to eat his fajitas but stops immediately. Everett points at his plate in clear disagreement.  
“Please, use your hands. I can’t watch while you murder it with fork and knife. Trust me”  
Stephen decides to indulge him, taking the wrap in his hands and taking a bite.  
“How is it?”, he asks smirking.  
“Good. Really good.”  
The place is truly peculiar, with its bricks and majolicas. People come and leave, packing the background of their dinner, spent talking about what happened to Everett, as far as they can in public. And then about food and silly things. One of his favourite songs comes out at the radio and Everett finds out about his passion and start testing his knowledge in fact of music, sharing his own favourites in return.  
When it’s clear they are the only customers left, Stephen insists to pay the bill and they head outside, enjoying the walk back to Everett’s apartment.  
Being in front of the door makes the recent events flow back in front of Stephen. The fear, the panic, Everett showing him the healed skin..  
“You should rest, you still got shot after all” he recommends, leaning against the front door.  
“Stephen, I told you, I’m fine. Don’t worry.” Everett dismiss the suggestion. “See you tomorrow?”  
“Aren’t you on medical leave?”  
Everett rolls his eyes and asks back instead. “Same bench, 2pm?”  
Stephen nods, smiling back at him.  
“I..’ll head back myself then. Thank you for tonight.” He means it. Everett takes him by surprise when, instead of simply squeezing his shoulder, offers a hug instead. His left hand brushes Stephen’s arm affectionately as they break apart.  
“No, thank you. It was very nice.” He steps inside. “Night, Stephen”  
“Night” he murmurs before walking down the sidewalk.  
A chilly breeze has started blowing. It steals away the old leaves and brings rain. But Stephen doesn’t notice.

The warmth of Everett’s touch spread through every bone, keeping him company on his way home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From now on, embrace the fluff :3  
> And a lovely welcome to AzarathMetrionZinthos, who is going to beta this ff from now on (we're going to edit the previous chapters in the next weeks).  
> Have a nice week!


	7. Door in the middle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, from now on it's going to get interesting, if you know what I mean..  
> I needed extra time to finish this because of mad hours at work. I'll d better with the next, hopefully.  
> Ps. Still to beta, forgive my poor typos.

 

After Seoul, after Wakanda, something has changed. The sudden perspective of losing Everett, the relief to have him back, they made Stephen realize the actual extent of these feelings he has been experiencing in the last months. To keep him from acknowledge them sooner has likely been the simple fact that he didn’t entertain himself with the idea that he might have another chance. To find someone. Let alone someone like Everett. To care about them the way he does for him. He wasn’t supposed to.  
The signs of his dilemma are all in plain sight – Wong saw, and Christine must have had a hunch too- and still he stubbornly refused to recognize them.  
A new routine mirroring his hidden thoughts has found its place. Everett got back to work and despite the many errands on both sides, they see each other more and more frequently. Before, either of them would add a working-related excuse to propose it. Instead, now they just go out. A walk in the park, lunch. A movie.  
And obviously there is work, too.  
While CIA and Interpol are busy tracking down Klaw’s web in Europe, Stephen and Everett planned to retrieve the stolen objects supposedly stolen by the dealer’s accomplices and take away the dangerous magical ones, before the police or the agency in chief could hurt themselves. Other than securing the possibly dangerous items, for Stephen there is a further reason. Once the thieves are arrested and the loot secured, he will be able to discern Mordo’s doings from their robberies. The sorcerer has likely destroyed the artefacts already, but the information might help to find him.  
During the last weeks his ex-comrade’s attacks have been raising in both number and violence. Another person, a teacher in Boston, has been deprived of her magic, and her friends had to take her to hospital, were she was still on recovery.  
Stephen met Wong and Mrs. Pruitt from London’s Sanctorum to discuss it immediately after. Wong thinks there is no hope to bring Mordo back and foresees the fight as inevitable, especially since the escalation of violence. Mrs. Pruitt thinks that he should be brought in to be judged and eventually for them to take away his powers. But Stephen couldn’t bring himself to just give up on him without trying to talk to him first, despite his most recent acts. He persuaded the other sorcerers to give him a chance.  
On his way out, Wong tried to stalk him again about their last conversation, visibly concerned by the fact Stephen wasn’t addressing the matter at all. In fact, acknowledging his feeling didn’t mean he was willing to believe what Wong was implying. That his feeling might affect his magic. That he was different from other sorcerers. He added some excuses and rushed away. The headaches stopped the night Everett came back and despite the persisting insomnia, everything seems under control. Truth to be told, he felt pretty good. Magic always comes with a cost in terms of physical exertion, but recently he found himself more and more inclined to it, the effort almost non-existent.

As for the smugglers, it turned out there were various cells operating on the West Coast, all linked to Klaw via the Chinese crime network. After a lucky arrest made by the police, Everett and Marthe finally managed to locate another one of the cells. From three to five men, operating in their area. They use a supposedly empty warehouse in Fulton Landing as basis.  
Stephen and Everett planned to inspect it tonight, once they are out.  
The sorcerer has been monitoring the place for almost two hours when the men finally left -he counted five of them- and he made contact with the friend to alert him. The spell he casted at Everett’s pocket was still useful in this kind of situation. Quicker than a text.  
An approaching engine makes him more alert, as he slips sinuously into the shadows. The car’s engine dies down and after a moment a murmured greeting makes him relax.  
“Stephen?”  
“Here”  
The other’s hand rest on his forearm, a silent greeting meant for reassurance. The smugglers left about thirty minutes ago. They should have enough time to inspect the facility and wait for them to come back with the results of their latest robbery.  
They head inside using a portal as way-in. The place is clearly abandoned, all dust and rubbish. There is a dim light coming from the aisle and they warily step further inside the building.  
The lights of a few spot lamps show them an open area, a little less untidy and filled with containers and boxes ready to be shipped and a table filled with tools and blue prints.  
Stephen starts wandering among them and Everett follows him. The arrays he used back at the CIA Labs will help them to understand just how dangerous they are talking here. Or if it’s just old bones and pots.  
Stephen has just finished inspecting the third box and is moving to turn around the container when Everett tenses. There is a sudden crack just a few meters from them and Stephen is being pushed aside a little roughly. His shoulders meet the container’s rusty wall and a hand comes to shut up any complain. Everett can see Stephen eyes widening, suddenly aware as they both hear voices approaching. Angry ones.  
They have got company.  
For some reason, they’re back ahead of time.  
Everett’s call saved them from an unpleasant situation. That said, their position is far from comfortable. Or uncomfortable. Their fronts are lined up from chest to bottom and it makes all more difficult to ignore the other’s -and his own- thundering heartbeats as their guest proceeds inside the warehouse.  
“Fuck!”  
“Johnny, calm down.”  
“You don’t tell me to calm the fuck down!”  
“What happened? The cameras went off and-”  
“Yeah, Bull! What happened? You told us it was supposed to be by the book!”  
“He almost got me this time!!”  
“What are you, a pussy? Glitches happen. But this time I was prepared.”  
“You just slowed him down. I’m tired of this shit!! I’m out!”  
“We said one last hit- “  
“You said it yesterday, Bull. Tom and Ricky already said their goodbyes. I’m done too.”  
At least three men, maybe four, Everett signs. He removes his hand, wordlessly enquiring the friend about bursting into. The rush of adrenaline in his veins doesn’t help against the urge to breath in Everett’s scent, this close to him. Stephen nods and prepares to move.  
Everett, gun in his hands, moves ahead. They step into the light. He shouts over the ongoing discussion.  
“CIA. Freeze now. You’re under arrest.”

 

  
Everett has just ordered the men to stand down when he realizes there is something off.  
They are all staring at Stephen.  
Which should be expected, since he is wearing the cloak. And he’s likely surrounded by lightly arrays.  
However, there’s no confusion or awe in their features.  
Nor fair interest in the fact Everett is pointing a gun at them.  
Instead, a clear flash of recognition and fearful anger spreads through them all.  
"Another freak!" the man on the right speaks for the others.  
They move to pull out their guns and aim at them both. Everett shoots the closer two in a matter of seconds while Stephen goes for the others, immobilising the closer one, chaining him to the floor. The last one, older than them, probably Bull, stops running when he realizes his friends have been taken.  
Something snaps in his glance and he turns back, just to run forward Stephen. There is not much distance to cover and being Stephen taken by surprise, the man is in front of him in matter of seconds, pulling out -now Everett can see that- something long and cylindrical from under his jacket.  
The scream is out of his throat before even formulating the thought.  
_“Watch out!!“_  
They are lucky. The man moves whatever he’s holding toward Stephen, his arm drawing an arc from left to right and a cloud of black powder fills the space between them.  
Stephen stepped back in order to avoid what looked like a hand to hand but finds himself covered in dark duster nevertheless. The man tries to reiterate but Everett is already there, knocking him on the ground.  
“Thank God, I thought he was going to stab you.” Everett breathes out, looking for other weapons on the unconscious man. Two guns.  
“Me too”. Stephen sounds a little surprised himself, stepping closer.  
Everett rescues a cell phone from the thief’s jacket and makes an anonymous call to 911. Let the police deal with them. He just dodged a heart attack.  
He would be a liar if he were to say his worries were merely professional.  
From their very first meeting, Everett has been totally -and unconsciously- clear about the fact he found the sorcerer attractive. Thank God. But the time spent with Stephen made him realize, day after day, that there was something missing from his life made of risks, mission, reports and private life. And that of course that missing thing was in fact someone. Someone.  
That someone never mentioned the episode again and if he recognizes the first signs of Everett’s interest, he couldn’t say for sure. At first, Everett recalls, he thought about letting it go, ignoring it in favour of a good friendship, afraid he might lose it bringing up the subject.  
Then he sit in a simulator and shut down four Wakandan planes. And the only thought, other than taking the damn bastards down, has been _I have to try. I have to know if I have a chance. And damn me if I don’t get it._  
He moves his eyes on the sorcerer as soon as he hangs up.  
“You look like a chimney sweep.” He allows himself some mockery.  
Stephen’s button up is a mess. The cloak didn’t protect him this time. “More like a miner”. He says back, amused.  
They both chuckle.  
Although, Stephen's laugh pauses just to turn into an unexpected cough. The sorcerer starts to shake the powder off but he coughs again. He probably breathed the damn thing.  
"You all right?" Everett asks.  
"Yes, I-". Another couple of coughs kicks in. Rougher.  
Stephen is about to continue when he has to interrupt himself again. He can’t stop coughing.  
After a few seconds it’s clear there is something off.  
Stephen clumsily leans against one of the wooden boxes filled with the stolen goods, Everett beside him, a hand running up and down his back to shush the sudden sickness. The man looks up at him with a flash of sudden intuition in his eyes.  
_"Stephen?"_  
"Poison", the other reveals in a ragged voice, "we ne-d Wong. He’ll know-".  
Another rush of harsh coughing forbids him from finishing. He is already shaking in the effort to breath in and out.  
Everett banishes the surging fear in his guts and scrape together all the calm he can.  
"Can you open a passage?".  
Stephen nods and moves his hands complying.  
How much of the bloody powder did that man throw at Stephen? He has no idea.  
Is this Wong person a colleague? Can he help?  
He should have shot the old man in the beginning. Fuck.  
As soon as the portal opens another coughing attack makes Stephen breathless and Everett finds himself supporting the friend as they walk through it.

A gentle scent of sage, myrtle and old paper hits Everett's nose. They have just jumped into a nice flat, high industrial steel windows, the light of the lampposts pouring inside, where thick cotton curtains let it. Is it ..?

Is this Stephen's house?  
No time to think about it.  
Stephen’s legs give up within the next few steps and the cloak is the only reason keeping them from messily crushing on the floor.  
“Hey, hey, easy.” Everett sustains him to reach the sofa in front of them. He turns on a lamp.  
What kind of poison is that quick anyway? Shouldn’t Everett be affected too?  
Stephen tugs his sleeve and he focuses on the man on the sofa. He visibly paled, his breath still laboured but slower. Bad sign.  
"Door in th- middle." His eyes flicker dangerously. A shiver runs down Everett’s spine.  
“Stephen, don’t you dare-“  
The sorcerer’s grip gets weaker and the next second he’s unconscious.  
“-faint on me. _Shit_ ”  
Shit, shit, shit.  
The cloak is standing in front of him, waving nervously. “Show me!!” Everett orders her, on the edge of panic. No point to hide it now that Stephen passed out.  
She rushes outside the apartment, into a wide landing. Everett chases her through the rooms, just to find himself in front of a large wooden gate. It’s open and he steps inside. The circular room looks- no, feels ancient, where the rest of the building is just old. Mid-thirties old. He felt a shiver as he entered it and many conversations with Stephen suggest him he might just have surpassed some type of magical barrier. In fact, there are three gates like the one he just came in from. "Middle,uh?". The gate is quite something. All brass knob and that sort of things, he notices. Will he be able to even move it?  
He has to.  
The handle is deadly cold against his skin. He pushes.  
Apparently, the doors are enchanted, too. The shutters are impossibly light to move, he registers absently, stepping inside.  
Outside. Whatever.  
The cloak runs inside this new building without waiting for him to catch up. “Ohi!” he shouts.  
He runs ahead just to find a man already approaching. He is wearing a tunic just like Stephen’s.  
Right place, then.  
The moment he catches sight of Everett, the monk moves his hands, with the clear intention to attack him.  
“Stop! I’m with her!” Everett tries to save himself, but the cloak has already rushed back by his side and comes between them, gaining a confused frown from the man. Is it possible that..?  
" Are you...Wong?"  
He must be.  
The man stares at him with confusion and wary.  
“Who are you and why-“  
He doesn’t dare to move as he speaks, hands still raised. "I’m Everett. Everett Ross. Stephen told your name before passing out and the cloak brought me here. I-"  
Finally, the man lets go of his arrays and seems convinced by his words enough to ask, "Where is he?"  
"This way. We were inspecting a warehouse and he got poisoned.”  
He tells the sorcerer about the man, and the black powder as they move.  
They step back inside the previous building. "Did he ingest any?"

"God. A bit maybe?"  
Did he? They didn’t care about it until he started coughing. He steps inside Stephen’s rooms, and the friend is where he left him, just paler. So much paler. He runs by his side and checks for the heartbeat. Wong examines him before standing up. He starts drawing and array and Everett tenses.  
“What..?”  
"It will get rid of the powder” And in fact the clothes turn clean again. “Move him on the bed. I’ll be right back." And he is out of the room again.

Everett turns his attention to the cloak. "Can you help me?”  
She approaches straight away. “If I hold him up like this.." Everett prompts, raising Stephen from his shoulders. The cape already got his intentions and gently slides under the sorcerer's body and then lifts him up toward the bedroom.  
Then again, he moves Stephen to free her from his weight and adjust the pillow. The cloak is back on Everett’s side. Like if she is guarding her owner the way he is.  
"Is he going to be ok?" the man asks, to the floating cape brushing his hand or to himself, he’s not sure.  
"He has had worst. Don't worry." Wong answers him, reappearing with a mortar in his hands. He pours a liquid from there into a glass on the nightstand. Everett helps him to raise Stephen’s head in order to make him drink it.  
"What are you giving him?"  
"Antidot.”  
A man of many words, Everett is realizing. He asks something instead.  
“Why am I feeling ok? I was close enough..”, but Wong shakes his head and quietly explains.  
“It’s different. It is mountain ash. It’s safe for common people. Poisonous to sorcerers, specifically. Besides..”  
Everett doesn’t get to know what was coming next. Stephen’s breath turns back to regular and he sits at his side, towering him in apprehension. Did it work?  
Stephen slowly opens his eyes and focuses on Everett, blinking tiredly.  
"G-d job" he smiles, slowly regaining colour. Everett’s smile builds up almost immediately.  
"I did nothing. It's all Wong's doing". Stephen’s eyes move from one friend to the other.  
"Rough day", he simply says, hoarsely. Wong glares at him.  
"I suppose we are even now".  
Everett doesn’t get it but the friend probably does because he smiles. “We are”.  
The sorcerer retrieves his mortar and addresses Everett.  
“He might feel unsettled for a while. You need to keep him watched for at least four hours. If he starts coughing again, call me.” Stephen is rolling his eyes but he nods. Wong bows and is about to leave.  
“Thank you”, Everett adds grateful, standing up from the bed. Wong turns back to give him a pointed look. Everett feels strangely scrutinized “You’re welcome, Mr.Ross.”  
The man comes back to sit down on the edge of the mattress. Stephen makes a move with his hands and his clothes turn into a wore out t-shirt and trousers. He slides back against the cushions, sighting.  
“Nice fella you’ve got here”.  
“You ok?”, he adds, eager to get rid of his concern. Stephen smiles and calmly moves to sit against the pillows, as to prove a point.  
“Yeah. Thank you. It was pretty stupid from me”.  
The agent settles on the edge of the mattress, with a dry chuckle.  
“What? Who knew they had something like that? Didn’t go fishing for sorcerers.”  
It still doesn’t explain how they recognized Stephen as one so soon, when almost no one was supposed to know about them. And why they had a bloody poison for him. For those like him.  
Some of his anger and fading panic must surface because Stephen pokes at him, “Are you ok?”  
Everett fixes his eyes back on Stephen, trying to push everything down, just for now. He shakes his head. “I’m not the one who got poisoned.” He would add something else but the other’s glance shuts him up. He is so open and almost unguarded and-  
His phone rings and he gets the call. It’s Marthe, informing him that the smugglers have been arrested by the local police while the objects have been to FBI and then to CIA. Just as planned. Everett dismisses her question about their rapid leaving and hangs up.  
“You don’t have to babysit me, you know?” Stephen makes him notice with a gentle tone.  
“Well, I’m going to.”  
Although, a sudden thought strikes him. He should have considered it as soon as Stephen regained consciousness. It has been, after all, an unplanned situation they fell into. He looks away as he asks, “Unless you prefer for me to leave. I mean, I understand if..”  
“If what?”  
Stephen straightened up from his position and is now staring at him in confusion.  
“This – this is your ..safe place. Yours and other people’s home. And I understand if you prefer-“  
“Why should I- _Ah_. That’s it. Why you never asked and..”, Stephen is making that face. The one from when he hears something he considers absolute nonsense. “You thought I was being self-protective..?”  
Everett shrugs.  
“Well, more like prevident, or cautious-”  
“Don’t be an idiot. I trust you.”  
The words are meant to dismiss his stupid worries, but have another effect all together, sending a wave of pure heat directly to his chest. The sorcerer is looking at him, nibbling at his lower lip as he observes his reaction, like if he were afraid to have misspoke in some way.  
“So, can I make myself at home?”, he breaks the silence eventually.  
“If you wish.” Stephen scoffs, a smile on his lips as he lays back down.  
“Then I’m going to stay and check on you, like Wong said.”  
“Whatever.”  
Everett wanders around the room, Stephen’s eyes burning on his back as he noses around the room. He stops in front of the bookshelves and inspect the volumes. Some of them, he is not even sure what language they’re written with.  
“How many languages do you know?”. His fingers greet every volume on the lower shelf.  
“French, Spanish, Ancient Greek and Latin. Italian, and some Chinese.”  
“I could have used some Wakandan”, he comments dryly. T’Challa is supposed to visit Vienna next month. Shuri texted him.  
Stephen shrugs. “Can’t help with it, but I probably can get some books from the library downstairs if you want.”  
“Mhm.” A particularly wore out book attracts him. He picks it out.  
“Do you mind?”, he asks, as he goes sitting on the armchair next to the window.  
“Not at all.” Stephen lays back down and stays silent for a while.  
“He doesn’t live here.”  
“Who?” Everett asks, absently running through the book’s pages.  
“Wong. He lives in Hong Kong. Where you found him. I have a few physical portals in here.”  
Everett moves his eyes from the pages, staring at him for a good ten seconds. He speaks slowly, just to be sure of what he is about to say.  
“I went to China. Through a door.”  
“Yep.”  
“Where..where do the other gates lead?”  
“London. And Kamartaj. That’s where I studied the mystical arts. We all spend some time there, in rotation.”  
“We?”  
“All sorcerers. Especially the sorcerers in charge of the main sanctorums. Before she died, my master run the place. Now..we share.” He shrugs, a little smug watching his amazement. The bastard.  
“No Narnia then?” he prompts, a little sassy.  
“I’m afraid not.”  
“I’m a little disappointed, I must say”  
“I bet.”. They laugh for a moment, but Stephen should be resting, Everett reminds himself.  
“You should probably sleep a bit?” he suggests. The friend sights, clearly prone with the idea but a little pessimistic.  
“No use to try. Not gonna happen.”  
Everett compels himself to bring his eyes back on the book and reads some pages, hopeful that Stephen might get some real rest, despite the usual insomnia he has been commenting about. After about half an hour, he dares to spy the friend just to find him staring back at him, still perfectly awake.  
He tilts his head on one side, silently scolding him for not even trying. Stephen rolls his eyes.  
“Would you like to see around? I can-“  
Everett closes the book and approaches the bed. “No way. You’re not moving from here. Not under my watch. I like your friend but he looks like a vengeful type. Not willing to find out.”  
“I’m fine-”  
“Don’t. What do you guys do here when you get sick?”  
Stephen moves his hands theatrically to move a curtain hiding a tv screen and glares at him, clearly asking if Everett was being serious.  
“What were you expecting, exactly?”  
Said Everett decides to ignore the unspoken mockery and places himself on the other side of the bed. “Do you have Netflix?”

 

As they see one of the tv series in Stephen’s list – Sense8 - , Everett goes through everything that happened in the last hours.  
Wong said Stephen had worst. Worst then getting poisoned?  
And what did he mean when he was talking about the poison?  
He is dying with the need to go right to those motherfuckers and demand to know how they got their hands on the bloody poison to begin with. And why they knew how to use it. Bu right now staying with Stephen is more important. He hasn’t coughed anymore since waking up but his voice is still a little too rough and he is clearly worn out, despite the reassurances.  
The Indian woman on the screen is taking a sunbath in some place in India, surrounded by flowers and at the same time she smells the heavy rain pouring in Berlin. Talking about gravity. Stephen explained him the plot and they have been discussing it. Something about enhanced people and bad guys willing to experiment on them.  
“So they can feel each other? That’s why he can smell the flowers?” Everett asks, moved by the scene.  
“Yep”  
“That’s..intriguing. If you think what enhanced people can do. It’s more dystopic than sci-fi.”  
“It’s more real than you think.” At his enquiring frown, Stephen explains.  
”We’re all linked by energy. The Wachoskis don’t know about it and yet had the intuition to ..fable it.”  
“You like it”, Everett deduces out loud, pleased. Stephen’s tired eyes come back on the screen.  
“I..I think I do. The fact that they can share the happiness, the fear, the pain. Not just because of their cluster. Because they’re human, whereas the people hunting them are not. The idea that they will never be alone.”  
The last comment is light-hearted but it strikes Everett’s cords nevertheless. As the sun set, they got closer and closer, cuddled by the cushions behind them, and they are now arm to arm. He leans closer without even thinking.  
“Do you?”  
“What?” Stephen murmurs, tinting his head in accord, not moving away.  
“Do you ever feel alone?” He asks, almost whispering in his ear. A rebel lock of hair tickles his nose.  
Everett replays Stephen’s words, from the day they met. He said he would keep doing things on his own if Everett were to refuse. And then that one time he let it slip something about his childhood. He used to collect leaves, to spend the day walking in the woods. However, he never mentioned doing it in company. He has never even talked about his family..  
“Most of the time. Before.” Stephen murmurs, the low voice vibrating through their bodies. “It got better.”  
Before the accident, he means. Before magic entered his life. Now he had friends, like Wong. A mission. Still.  
The following words are out of his mouth before he gets the chance to consider their implications.  
“Do you feel alone now?”  
“No”.  
The answer is straight forward, the voice low and scratching directly at his bare heart.  
Stephen’s body presses closer and Everett has not the bravery to turn his gaze away from the monitor, to catch sight of the other’s expression. Stephen is almost leaning against him.  
He moves his lips, giving an order to the storm raging inside him.  
“I ..think I know what you mean. I’m glad.” He inhales deeply. “That you came looking for me. Since you step inside my office something has changed and now I-“  
The weight’s balance changes and cuts him off  
Stephen is no longer listening, his head heavy on his shoulder.  
He fell asleep on him.  
The cheeks have gained back their colour but Everett finds himself brushing his cheekbone with shaking fingers, almost afraid he might break. He moves his thumb to cup him and he is overwhelmed by the warmth flooding his body.  
Stephen doesn’t wake up but curls up into the touch and moves to rest on his side, even closer, now lodged on the other’s chest. Everett doesn’t dare to breath, already sad at the idea his crazy heartbeat will wake him up. A minute passes and Stephen is still beautifully asleep. And finally, the sorcerer sights, content and oblivious of what just happened. Everett’s arm sets to embrace him.  
"I’ll stay a bit longer, then" Everett whispers, turning off the tv and carefully setting the both of them in a more comfortable position.

_ Since you step inside my office something has changed and now I can’t stop feeling the way I feel.  _ _About you. _

_I am falling for you.  _

_And I want to stay, if you let me._


	8. Glowing

 

 

There is anything but bliss. The nice smoothness of the sheets against his skin, the memory -or was he imagining it?- of another person by his side, the tempting grip of sleep. At last, the smell of coffee slowly calls Stephen back to consciousness. He sights, satisfied. Through the blurring of his vision, he comes to identify Everett, sitting on the corduroy armchair next to the window, the sunlight pouring through the curtains hitting him.

"Hi", Everett murmurs, almost conspiratorial.  
He stayed. Last thing Stephen remembers, they were watching the tv show, talking. The way the distance between them disappeared one breath at the time until there was no room left, and then. He must have fallen asleep.  
"Mornin'."  
Everett stayed. He promised to guard him and he did. And Stephen knows he shouldn’t feel this empowered by the thing. But he can’t help it.  
Everett is observing him thoughtfully and takes another sip from the cup in his hand. Also, on the table next to him, a paper bag that promises croissants.  
Everett hurries to answer to his curious glance.  
"There is a coffee down the street."  
"I know”. He uses to go there quite often, actually.  
“How-?"  
“Levi let me out. Brought it and came back." The friend tilts his head to point at the cape, resting in her corner of the room, by the bed.  
Stephen briefly wonders how Everett came to have a nickname for her, surprised she was even letting him, but another doubt whispers in his head.  
"Who let you in?".  
Everett shrugs. "No one"  
He can’t know that it should technically be not possible. Whoever is not practised in the mystical arts shouldn’t be able to find his way back to the Sanctorum, unless under invitation. The fact Everett went out and brought back coffee is just as impossible as-

“You broke down last night. Seems like you needed it.” Everett keeps talking, as he opens the curtains. “How long have you been awake anyway?”  
The question distracts Stephen for good. Everett catches him tensing a bit and stops halfway to the bed, the cup of coffee he is yearning for only a few steps away. No way to dodge the question.  
“Three days-?”  
“ _Are you out of your mind?_ ”. The cup of coffee finds his hand and next thing he is savouring it. Perfect.  
Almost perfect. Except for Everett’s deep frown. Stephen sights, before articulating.  
“Not my fault. Wong says it's magic-related.”  
“But you disagree.” Everett reasons, judging his tone.  
“Mmh.” He slowly takes another sip. “Not enough data yet. Not a big deal anyway.” A tiny voice in his head protests.  
He hurries to deflect the conversation on a different topic altogether.  
“So.. breakfast. What do you have?”  
Everett joins him on the bed and seems to let the topic go, at least for now.  
After breakfast, Stephen gets up and offers Everett a change of clothes, before changing himself. Despite yesterday’s adventure and Everett ‘s cloudy glance, he feels well enough.  
“Would you like a tour?” he offers.  
“Absolutely.”

After a quick show of his own flat – Everett already saw most of it last night- they exit and start to wander in the building.  
“Are there other people living here, then?” Everett asks curious.  
“They sort of visit, for long periods. No one lives here for good except me, at the moment.”  
Why is that his old jump looks so good on Everett?  
“Why not?”  
Stephen shrugs. “We live in Kamar Taj while we study the arts. Once they reach the level of magic they need, people usually go back home. If they want to visit one of the Sanctorums, it just takes a few moments. And if you want to devote yourself to the cause, you usually spend your time travelling, so..”

“How did you end up here, then? I mean. You already told me but..why New York? Is it because you already lived here or..", Everett enquires.  
The question makes Stephen run through the past two year’s events. Kaecilius’ rebellion, Hong Kong. Then the general meeting in Kamar Taj, Mrs.Pruitt and the others asking him to help them by watching over New York. Like the Ancient asked. He puts together a brief explanation.

"I first came here during an attack. The former guardian was killed before I could do anything. I was still learning and never got in a serious fight until then. Let alone a deadly, magical one. The Ancient thought to put me in charge of the place. “

For as much he distrusts Wong’s theories about himself, the Ancient’s offer had a totally different colour if he were right. That’s one of the first things that came to mind when he dared to think about it. What she saw in him was still a mystery to him. If she knew since the very beginning about his gifts, though...

“Weren't you still learning, as you said?”  
Stephen tries to toss away his doubts. “Well.. she had her ideas. I refused, of course. Then things went to shit and.. I ended up accepting anyway. Two years have passed since then.”  
“Any more attacks?”, the other queries, serious.  
"No one knocked at the door yet", he concedes, dark humour colouring his tone.  
Everett is about to ask something else about it but Stephen can see the fight on his face, and the question never comes. He is kind of glad. Talking about it would mean to think about Wong’s absurd ideas and he has definitely no intention to deal with it.

  
They walk all around the place, Stephen showing him meditation rooms, enchanted windows and introducing him to the few fellows they met on their way.  
Then they take another stair toward the basement. A mahogany door welcomes them.

Stephen stops briefly, as to announce something particularly important. “And here is the library.”  
Everett can’t help a frown. “You have already showed me. Upstairs.” Other than the books in his bedroom, Stephen has another room of his flat, filled with packed shelves and another couch.  
“That’s the room I use as my personal storage. _This one_ is the Sanctorum’s library.” And saying so, he precedes Everett on the way in.

He is allowed a little showing off, is he?

A little balcony with a pair of marble flights brings to a huge open space, enlightened by warm lights. From where they stand, Everett can’t get the actual extension of the area, just by sight. It might occupy the equivalent of Time Square for all he can see. And the whole floor is filled with high-rise shelves of books.  
“I can’t. I mean—I can’t even..”  
“Mhm”. Stephen acknowledges his stupor.  
“I love magic.”

_I love you_

The thought is immediate, strong and totally unsurprising. It sets a warm bubble inside his chest as he keeps observing the man next to him. He knows his chances are next to zero, he shouldn’t even think about it. He doesn’t deserve someone like Everett. But the heart rarely listens to good, real reasons. And Stephen has nothing left but pining.  
“How big is it?” Everett inquires, unaware of the other’s track of thoughts, crossing his arms as he leans against the balustrade. Stephen shoos away the butterflies in his throat.  
“No idea. There is a space-time distortion in place. I myself haven’t reach the end of it yet. Mrs. Pruitt, which is in charge of London’s Sanctorum, once guessed the various sorcerers’ libraries might be linked, like some-“  
“-kind of separated dimension.” The other completes for him.  
“Yes, exactly.”  
Everett shakes his head, straightening up.  
“Brilliant”  
“Don’t worry, we won’t get lost in it.”  
Everett chuckles, shaking his head as he surpasses him on their way down the stairs. “I really don’t mind.”  
“I do. I’d like to have lunch somewhere later.” Stephen offers.  
“You know what they say..food for your mind.”  
He laughs with gusto as he follows.

They enjoy each other’s company through the lines of shelves. Now that they moved down the main floor, it is evident that the library is not as uniform as it might seem by above. There are smaller sections and architectural changes all around them. One moment they are walking down a marble, polished floor and the next there is a series of stony steps leading them to a narrow corner. The changes in the lighting and the furniture give the impression of visiting various places, one after another.

“You sure we are not going to lose our way?” Everett laughs, probably realizing the difficulty to keep track of their route after too many turns. No need to worry, though.

“Don’t worry. Take the next one on the left.” Stephen reassures him. There is a reason he chose this route today. There is something he wants to show to Everett.  
The other man complies and keeps going until they reach an open space.  
More like an enclosed garden.

The dim lights make barely visible the fact that the shelves embrace a little pond, decreasing by levels in circle, to leave room to the little clearing. It’s almost as if the sun has already been setting in here, despite the hour.  
Everett goes silent, clearly amazed by the new discovery.  
“What is this place?”

“Just another section.”

“It’s so quiet and..how can I have missed it before? I should have seen a dark spot looking from above, right?”  
Stephen shrugs, and decides to concentrate on absently cuddling a book on his right hand because right now Everett’s glance is too mesmerizing. “Magic? I can’t explain either. I found it one day, after moving in, and it became my secret spot.”  
They move along the wall, to embrace the view and proceed downstairs.

“I meant to ask you while we were talking before but..what are those lights?”  
Since they started their tour inside the library, from time to time, some books on the shelves have gone bright, practically luminescent.  
Stephen stops moving and smiles knowingly before explaining.  
“That’s my idea. I used to take too many books from the library back in Kamar Taj. I am an eager reader and Wong has always been very strict about loaning rules. When I took charge of the place, I thought about..improving the loan system. Usually sorcerers can either physically take a book through a portal -which Wong convinced me to ditch as an option- or read it in its astral form-”  
“You mean what you explained me about your souls being able to stay awake through meditation?”  
“Yes, that’s it. And this is how it works. They access the resources without _actually_ bringing them out. The lights are a signal of the spell going off.” As to confirm what he has just said, a book shines dimly a few meters from them, the light fading away in matter of seconds.

Everett is staring at him with a glance Stephen is not able to read, as he leans back against the shelf. “And you just..came up with this?”  
Stephen chuckles, and steps closer. “It was just ..an idea.”

“No, it’s not Stephen. You are amazing.”  
His heart jumps, and a rush of something Stephen can’t process right away makes his hands tickle.

“What if I touch it?” the rich, low voice comes again.

“Mh?” he manages to articulate.  
Is Everett even aware of the effect he has on him?

“What if someone touches the book while it happens. Is it dangerous?”

“Let me see..”  
Stephen plays around, and his arm calmly stretches to reach a book next to Everett’s ear as his astral form moves to pick it as well. The book’s alarm goes off as he takes it out of the shelf. Everett’s arm moves and he grabs the book, too. Their hands touch.

There is a light warmth spreading from the cover, but nothing else. Not that either of them registers the matter.

Stephen can see Everett’s pupils go fiercely wide as the light fades in the shadow. As did his own, likely.  
Everett lets go of the book, and Stephen slowly put it back.

Maybe, just maybe, he didn’t misread this time. Please, just this time, he thinks.  
_Let me have this._

He leans even closer. The smell of old paper has mixed with Everett's.  
Anyone feeling unease to such closeness would have moved already, right? But Everett didn’t.

He murmurs quietly, in contrast to the agitation pervading him.

"I have been...wondering. About something.”

Everett has been observing him as he approached, the light colour of his pupils almost banished by black pits stealing at the dim light of the room, moistening his lips before asking, just as quietly.

"Any progress?"

"Don't know.”  
"You always know"

The comment is meant as a quick reply, but Everett’s voice brings all the trust he places in Stephen.  
What has he done to deserve this?

"Not this time. Not this."

And here it is, the desperate starving that is consuming him, bone and flesh and soul. Fighting with the fear to ruin what they have now. Suffocating the hope to have something different.

Something more.

"Maybe you don't need to.” The other whispers, tilting his head on one side. He breaths out, almost at loss of air. “Just...jump.”

"I am not good at falling". But he is, slowly closing the distance left between them, dragged down by his pounding heart. His hand brushes against Everett’s once again.

"I got you."

 

The kiss is nothing like he used to imagine.  
It’s not his first, no matter if it has never been a man. That’s not what catches him totally off guard, casting off the moorings keeping him. That’s the surging sense of steadiness conquering each and every fiber of him.

 

“You promised you wouldn’t do magic on me”, Everett exhales against his lips.

Stephen still, in shock. “I..I’d - _never_ ”.  
A brief touch of lips forbids him to come up with the rest. Everett’s right hand grasping at his tunic.  
“Joking.”  
Stephen takes his time to absorb the other’s tender – there are no other words for it- glance before lowering back to kiss him a second time, without further warnings.

No more doubts apparently mean no more restrains, as he feels dragged forward by Everett’s hands. Or is he pinning him against the shelves? He is not sure of anything anymore. Just that his lips are supposed to be on his own. As his own are supposed to travel all the way down Everett’s jaw to make him know just how much he longed for this.

“I- you..”. He smoothers one hand down Everett’s chin, a funny voice he doesn’t recognize as his own.  
Too much happiness, too much transport.

“Yes”. Everett confirms, sounding astonishingly satisfied with the route of events.

“-when?”. Stephen realizes he still hasn’t stopped kissing him, leaving rapid touches on Everett’s skin as he puts words together, too engaged to care about sense or style.

“Since being shot? Before? I don’t know. .I just…”. A pair of strong hands keep him close and gently brush his back, up and down. Lips against lips again. At some point there are words again. “I didn’t know what to do. But when I came back.. I had to try. And yet, you beat me on time”. Stephen doesn’t miss the joke. He smiles fondly as he distances himself a little bit, still panting.

“My job, after al-”

Everett assaults his mouth and actually manages to banish every logical thought from him mind.

Stephen can feel his whole body buzzing, almost electrified. He should be concerned by how much a single -or multiple, now- kisses are enough to completely take apart his control.  
He isn’t. In fact, he would be gladly let Everett do anything he wants.

But this is not one of those one-time stands, and it’s not about someone.  
It’s Everett.  
Who apparently is interested in him. Willing to give them a chance.  
And he is not going to waste it by rushing things.  
On the very contrary, he is going to savour every bit of it.

He tries to calm down a bit, keeping himself at bait. Everett must get it too. Nodding, he distances a little, just to leave a chaste, rapid kiss on the corner of Stephen’s mouth, a happy sight escaping him.

Stephen lets go of Everett’s hip reluctantly. He smiles nevertheless.

“Let’s see if I can find you those Wakandan books.”

A thumb brushes against his eyeshadows, all too caring.  
“Food first. Besides, we have all afternoon to make out among the shelves.” Everett declares smugly.

He is gloating like he just won the Super Bowl all on his own, not realizing he is the prize instead, Stephen thinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not plan this to be the 8th chapter, but it actually fits perfectly.  
> Maybe a little shorter than usual, but I worked a lot on it, sorry to have kept you waiting.  
> Did you like the Sanctorum's library?  
> Everett calling the cape Levi is my tribute to sh2jw and their AMAZING works <3 <3 <3
> 
> I'll be a little busy until the beginning of September (in Edimburgh first week of the month, anybody there?) but I'll do my best to update as frequently as possible.


	9. Layers

The chattering of the people walking down the sidewalk and the noisy little clashing of the cups in the café helps Everett to divert some of his attention from just how much he wants to grab Stephen to kiss him one more time. He is thanking the casher and a few seconds later they join the crowd outside.

“You should have let me pay for it”, Everett mildly complains. Stephen folds both hands in the pockets of his coat as they proceed. “I have already forced you to stay up tonight. The least I can do is offering you lunch.” He licks his lips, his eyes fixed on Everett. A fascinating gleam in his eyes.

“If you say so.” He sustains the glance with a knowing grin. He is not the only one having trouble to hold back.

They haven’t touched anymore since they exited in the streets. It gives them both time to process what happened in the library. It’s kind of good, because Everett is not sure of how he should handle it, too lost in the excitement to see his hopes verified in Stephen’s smile– going slow? kissing him in the middle of the street.. or, should he..start courting him? Would Stephen let him?- Still, the novelty of it doesn’t keep neither of them from leaning a little too close on the walk down the sidewalk, and leaning definitely too close once sit at their table.

They are back in front of the Sanctorum in no time.

Stephen opens the door and they slide in. Everett looks all around the atrium before turning back. Stephen is staring at him. There is awe in his eyes, and yes, he may be the one who got enough courage to approach the topic, but he almost seems ..unsure about what to do next. It’s comforting in a way, knowing they are both feeling like this. So Everett decides to step in front of the sorcerer. Stephen licks his lips once more, and sights. Everett doesn’t speak, leaning closer and searching for any hint of hesitation and when he doesn’t find any, he kisses him.

Which they both were waiting for since they went out.

It still feels amazingly, and new and strange. Like stealing candies. Except, candies don’t usually run their big, marvellous hands down your back, tracing circles and most certainly don’t steal all your oxygen, snogging like teenager against a door. He moves his lips against Stephen’s and after a couple of breath tilts his head to take advantage from the angle and deepen it. He gains an enthusiastic response when Stephen’s hand comes to rest on his lower back and pulls him closer, while he keeps taking away his breath.

Everett can’t help but notice Stephen’s sensitive response to his touches. A severe shiver runs down his back as he realizes that maybe Stephen is also _this_ responsive because he spent a lot of time without anybody by his side. Not so much alike from himself, truth to be told. The second and immediate thought is that it is not going to be a problem anymore. Unfortunately, the phone starts ringing, his obnoxious tune interrupting them. They break apart. Stephen’s laboured breath tickle against Everett’s reddened lips. They pause, just like that, for a moment, unsure if ignoring the alarm and resume their activities or-

“Should probably answer”, Stephen murmurs, the –rough- voice of reason. Everett takes his time to memorize the image, having him in his arms, enthralled, dilatated pupils and the ghost of a smile in his voice. Perfect.

“Yeah..bloody calls”.

It’s Marthe, with an update about the previous night. If she has doubts about the quick excuses Everett made late last night about his and Stephen’s sudden disappearance from the scene, she doesn’t voice them. Everett wants nothing but staying where they are, so when Stephen begins to walk toward the stairs, he hurries to take his hand, willing to hold him close. In the end, it’s Stephen who pulls, lazily dragging him upstairs, all during the short exchange of information with the woman.

The call doesn’t take much, the time to walk back in Stephen’s rooms and Everett has hang up. “She managed to access the police records and obtained a questioning with the men arrested yesterday.” There were two of them, even if Everett suspects the only one with any relevant information could have been the man he shot defending Stephen. The very same is now frowning at him, questions drawn all over his face.

“If the police or the agency got their hands on something crucial, I can check those. Why do you want to question them?” He asks, sitting on the sofa. Everett convincingly dismisses the friend’s doubts. “It’s routine. They could still have some valuable information. If not for us, for the CIA, or the police. I have to deal with it.” Stephen observes him quietly, before admitting, “I guess it’s worth the shot.” He pauses briefly. “So, what time do we have to be there?”

“Listen, I think- I think I should do on my own.”

Stephen’s shoulders drop. “Why so?”

Everett joins him on the sofa. He observes the man before explaining his reasons. He sights. “They saw you, and even if they can’t harm you in any capacity, they might start to talk about sorcery and spells. People might overlook, but nowadays they have too many things to be afraid of…aliens, inuhmans, enhanced soldiers- to dismiss the accusations and-”

“I trust your judgement.” Stephen’s dim smile tells him he understands what he is saying. “Besides, I would be a terrible agent.”

Everett ignores him and stands up. He hints. “Also, you could use some more rest.”

“I’m fine.” The sorcerer rolls his eyes.

Wong’s comment from the previous day slam back in front of Everett’s mind, and he nonchalantly asks, eager to know what the man was referring to. “Did you ever got poisoned before?”. In the while he retrieves his jacket from the bed to put it on.

“First time.”, Stephen sits on the sofa, hands joined in front of his lips, in a meditative pose. “Although Wong got poisoned some time ago. I had to slave away to find him the antidot.”

Ah. That’s what the payed debt-thing was about, then. He hums absently, looking busy while checking the pockets of his jacket. He needs to change his clothes. For as much as he likes wearing Stephen’s, he can’t show up at work like this.

“You sure have an active lifestyle”

“You can talk.” Stephen mocks him. He spreads his legs on the sofa. A part of Everett wishes nothing but be back there and having no plans for the entire day.

“Point taken. At least I’m not fighting aliens.”

Stephen stiffens slightly, just to sight with not all faked relief. “Thank God.”

That’s new, Everett thinks. “What?” He enquires, sensing more than just small talk.

Stephen shakes his head and dismiss the whole thing. “Long story for another time”. He gets up once again. “A lift?”

“Yes, but only if you feel to. My apartment?”

The portal opens and he steps through it. Stephen smiles openly from the other side. “See you later, agent?”

God, he is so endearing that leaving him should be against the law. “Of course. I’ll text you.”

The portal closes with the usual rush, and Everett finds himself touching thoughtlessly Stephen’s jumper. He is entitled to not give it back, isn’t he?

 

 

 

The weather worsens by the time he gets to the police station, after taking care of all kind of things in the office. The hours of light are decreasing day by day, making room for winter, and he finds himself observing the reflection of the lamps in a puddle as he walks inside the police station. It’s safe to say it’s as crowded as a market. “You must be Agent Ross?”, a chubby sergeant, probably one step from the retirement, welcomes him. He flows among desks and people -cops, citizens and detainees- to reach him.

“Sorry for the timing”. Everett adds as a quick excuse for the request put forward by Marthe. The man waves his hand to dismiss his words and updates him instead. “Sergeant McKenny. Got an anonymous call. Found them beaten up quite badly. One dead, gunshot, right in his chest – he points at his own bottom up to underline the words – and a bunch of stolen objects. We stored them all in the warehouse in Greenwood, if you want to take a look.” “I might take up the offer, thanks” He follows McKenny through the mess, as they turn toward a long aisle, just as crowded.

A couple of pushers making a fuss about each other. One clearly just sold away the former colleague, by the shouts pushing through the noise as they are being taken away. Everett is so caught up in observing the scene, he doesn’t notice the delivery man approaching until they bump into each other rather roughly. The man is rather strapping, the jacket almost too tight against his biceps.

“Sorry”, Everett lets out.

The man tilts his head, covered in the usual colourful hat, as he slips away, silently excusing himself. McKenny monopolizes his attention, talking directly into his ear, clearly fed up with all the confusion. “Bloody Fedex. They are everywhere. Two days ago, I’m walking down Crescent Street with my coffee. And one of those boys slams right into me. Had to throw away my shirt.” They wait for the pushers to be dragged out of their way, when the sergeant asks, “Why you interested in these guys, anyway?” “I was asked to check a lead on a case we have reopened. Just willing to be done with it”

“No matter the jurisdiction, there is always shit to shovel”

Everett laughs quietly at the inherent feeling of comradeship.

“Here we go.” McKenny stops in front of a door. “Take your time, I’ll go for a cigarette.”

Except, once the door is opened, McKenny’s annoyed façade melts away, leaving place to a shocked expression. Everett is right behind him, so it just takes a half step past the sergeant to take in the unavoidable truth. The two man who got arrested thanks to his call.

The very same who attacked him and Stephen last night.

Their throat open from part to part.

The table covered in blood.

 

 

 

In the next hour the police station turns to living -packed- hell. There are officers and forensic running all around the place and McKenny had the insight to bring Everett in the chief’s office to wait. After a good hour the chief finally comes in after having to take care of the first evaluations. But he has a rather ill-disposed CIA agent to deal with, still.

“What the fuck happened! Why there was no one with them?”

“I imagine you see how much work we bear. The men were all on patrol or dealing with their own cases. They were under surveillance in a locked room, for God’s sake.”

“Then get the-” But the man cuts him off. “They went out a few minutes before..how unlucky“ . He sighs deeply, as the phone starts ringing once again. “Please, you have to believe me, I have no idea how to explain this.” He talks briefly over the phone before hanging up. “Have to go now.”

Everett takes a deep breath and tries to hold his nerves at bait a little bit. Enough to see the situation from their point of view. Low budgets, too many cases to deal with and a murder right under their noses. Last thing they need is a rabid agent to bother them.

“My apologies. I got carried away. It wasn’t my place to behave like this.”. The chief shushes him with a gesture. “No need to apologize. I am sorry you got caught up in this.” He makes his greetings before exiting the room. Everett can’t really reply anything at that. A dreadful shadow has been gathering consistence in his thoughts. Why would anyone mind entering a police station to kill in cold blood two smugglers who just got arrested. Not even the organized crime within the city would manage such a smooth job. They’d see it as a waste of time. Better send someone after them in prison.

Unless they knew something potentially compromising.

So compromising they were better dead. And yes, it’s just a supposition, but Everett can think on just one thing.

“Are you all right?”, McKenny interrupts the stream of his thoughts. Everett nods more vigorously then necessary, standing up from the couch. “Yes, I am. Sorry to have bothered you earlier.”.

The sergeant leans against the chief’s desk, rubbing at his nape. “Man, we just saw two slaughtered blocks, you get away with it. And I need a drink.” “I’ll better go.” Everett reasons out loud. They head for the exit in silence, still thinking about what happened. Everett stops glaring at the heavy rain outside. He faces the police man. “I’d like a report nevertheless, if it’s possible. And a phone call if anything pops up.” He shrugs, putting on the employee façade once again. “You know, superiors..”. McKennie glows, nodding knowingly. “You got it covered. Go and cheer up for the both of us. I’ve got the night shift.”

 

 

He is trying not to pour rain all over the seat in the car when he remembers to take a look to his phone.

“Shit..”. He exhales. Two texts. Stephen’s.

**Already have plans for dinner? 20.13**

**Maybe we could settle something for tomorrow instead. 22.47**

His wet fingers fly on the screen.

_Sorry! Just got out of work. 23.10_

_Got stuck in here longer than expected. 23.10_

It was way past dinner’s time but..

_Would you mind if we meet anyway? 23.11_

**Your apartment? 23.11**  

_Yes. I’ll be there in half an hour 23.12_

**I’ll bring something to drink. Preferences? 23.12**

_Surprise me. 23.13_

 

Everett keeps staring at his phone as the driver fights with the traffic.

Intelligence has nothing to do with the reason who brought him to set up the interrogation. He asked Marthe to because he needed to know how they could possibly know what Stephen is. Especially, why they knew how to harm him. The fresh memory of Stephen, sleeping in his arms, safe, helps to deal with what he has just witnessed. His instinct tells him there is more in this then just the murder of two petty thieves. He can’t tell Stephen. Not yet. Not without knowing more.

Stephen is brave, capable and a bit reckless, but Everett got it by now: he wasn’t supposed to face the things he is facing. He didn’t go looking for this. He ended up taking on a mission. That doesn’t mean he is ready to face all the dangers down the way. Or that he must do this alone.

Everett puts back his phone and stares outside the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It has been a while. Sorry!! Now that I've got my pc back, I'm going to edit regularly. I have been writing a lot and with this chapter we haven't reached the first half of story, yet. Let me know your thoughts about Everett, I need insights! bye


	10. A right way

 

 

“Why is he not answering?” Stephen asks to the void room.

Everett left hours ago and yes, he might have been tempted to pester him through messages, but he didn’t.

Then afternoon came and went, and now it’s dinner’s time. Everett is supposed to have dinner as well.

The cloak waves in a funny way in front of the desk. He has been reading for the last two hours, still looking for a way to help Jonathan Pangborn. The detective’s work would have to wait a little longer. His head is pounding in the most annoying way. Despite his reassurances, he is still feeling a little dizzy from last night.

If it weren’t for Everett..

Everett.

Stephen stares at the clock.

_Why is he still not answering?_

The cloak keeps lazily floating around the room, but she might as well be talking. “You are not allowed to speak.”  He reiterates before resuming his reading with a tired sigh.

He has never been good at Sanskrit and this book in particular is a torture to decipher without help. What the hell..

He is too comfortable to leave the place and just raises his hand, magically pulling another heavy volume out of the shelf, to consult.

However, the book flies through the air with unreasonable speed and Stephen has the time to dodge it just because Levi -oh god, he is calling her too, now! - has come to wrap all over the item on its way against the opposite wall, where it lands with a resounding thud, before crushing on the floor.

“What just happened?”

Stephen gets up, a little confused and walks to reach the book when his phone finally chips. He leaves the volume on the table and forgets about it altogether as soon as he reads Everett’s messages.

 

 

 

Next day Everett drops by after work. Stephen has almost finished the book from the previous night when he hears a knock on the open door.

“Hi?”

“ ‘evening”.  Everett steps inside and reaches the table Stephen is using. It is covered in books. He lets his hand run on Stephen’s sore shoulders and briefly massage them. That’s all the encouragement Stephen needs to raise his head from the pages and silently ask for a kiss. He is pleased right away.

Everett stands back with a sappy smile, before turning to grab something out of his bag.

“Stopped by at Pisillo’s. Brought us something to eat.”

They came to adopt this scheme weeks ago. Stephen would often forget at all about food and Everett would provide whatever the city had to offer them. The only difference now is that he can touch, he can kiss Everett. Not that he does it as often as he wishes. They are both still trying to figure out each other’s time, clearly. Usually one them would start it and then they find themselves kissing on the couch or against something, like stupid kids.

“Thank you”.

Stephen waves his hand and the books obey him, arranging themselves in an ordered pile on the left, leaving him enough room for his take away.

Everett retrieves a similar box and sets on the seat in front of him.

“How did it go?” Stephen asks. The man looks dead tired. Working late hours doesn’t help either.

Everett shrugs, “As usual. What about you? Resuming some medicine, I see”, he observes, his eyes lingering on the piled volumes.

“Not really” Stephen brushes the comment aside. At Everett’s frown he gives in to an explanation. “One matter I am trying to help with. Without success, it seems.”

Being unable to help Jonathan is as defeating as not being capable to find Mordo. It makes him feel useless as a friend. As for being a doctor it’s even worse. What happened no longer than three years ago in this same building -ending someone’s life, despite it being for self-defence- demolished his belief to be the one saving lives.

More than his moronic attitude when he used to work in surgery. More than his inability to fix his own impairment.

That day he stopped being a doctor. No matter what everyone -including himself- kept calling him.

But Everett distracts him from his own dilemmas.

“Is it..about your cases? Is it related?”

Stephen nods. “It is.”

Everett puts down his fork and grabs his napkin instead.

“Actually, I have been thinking about something I wanted to discuss with you. About your cases…before I left for Korea you told me how they could be mixed up with the ones we have been looking into in the last weeks. We still haven’t had the chance and I think we could focus on yours from now on. I could help, of course. And it only seems fair since you helped me with mine..”

The whole speech makes Stephen silent for a few seconds, both dazed and tempted.

“What about Klaw’s network?”, he asks, dubious. Everett told him last night’s interrogation brought to nothing. However, there could be other cells they don’t know about, operating elsewhere.

Everett moves his glance on the crammed shelves of books, as he answers.

“CIA is hunting down the last of them. Besides, if something important pops up, we can always check it in matter of hours.”

Stephen would lie if he said he didn’t think about asking for help. At least regarding the investigation work.

“I have already told you about the thieves I have been looking into.” Stephen begins from the end of it. Everett moves his legs to sit more comfortably. By now Stephen has come to recognize Everett’s different moods and right now the agent is taking over.

“You’ll need to explain me what happened so far.”

Stephen sights internally. He is not ready to face a discussion involving Mordo. Or Mordo’s doing. That would imply a good number of personal dilemmas he is not ready to face, let alone admitting them in front of Everett.

Or worse, exposing Everett to any possible threat coming from his world...

No, he decides. As long as he doesn’t acknowledge Mordo’s existence – or the extent of his involvement- there shouldn’t be risks. So, he begins to tell everything he can.

“It all started around two years ago, not long after I took charge of this Sanctorum. A friend came, asking for help. He was the first one to mention Kamar Taj to me. His name is Jonathan Pangborn. Someone attacked him. Stole his magic.”

Everett stiffens at the revelation. “Is it even possible?”

“Unfortunately.” Stephen puts the leftovers of his meal aside, his appetite already gone. Everett’s serious glance registers the fact, but he must decide not to comment on it. For the moment. Stephen takes a sip of water and continues.

In fact, Pangborn told them who the attacker was from the very beginning. He and Mordo only met a few times, whereas the New Yorker trained mostly with the Ancient One right before Mordo’s arrival in Kamar Taj. However, he was now well known in their milieu and Jonathan had no problems to identify him the moment he stepped in his garage. He skips it all, of course.

“We started looking into it, but the following months just brought more and more attacks. And thefts.”

He can see the reasoning behind Everett’s concerned expression.

“Magic objects...”, he reasons out loud, but Stephen anticipates him.

“They store some amount of magic.” Stephen concedes, before continuing. “And sometimes they enhance their owner’s.”

Everett observes him in silence for a long moment, clearly pondering the new information.

“There is more, isn’t it?”, he guesses.

_You can tell._

“The attacks..have been growing in frequency and brutality.”

Everett’s sharp glance takes a deeper shade. “Has someone-“

Stephen shakes his head vigorously. “No. Not yet. And I’d like to avoid it, at all costs.”

All of what has happened is his fault, after all. And every robbery, aggression, and potential killings as well.

“Is this why you came to me in the first place?” Everett asks suddenly. He has moved closer to the edge of the table, all focused on Stephen and what he is finding out as they speak.

It seems ages ago. That afternoon in London.  Stephen concedes himself to smile for a moment.

“I was looking for a long-term contact but yes, through it I also hoped to find something useful to understand ..their scheme.”

“What do you mean?”

“Until now, we have been outrun. At first, when we found out about the stolen objects, I thought the two things, mixed up, might have leaded us in the wrong direction. But even now that I am starting to discern their doing from the rest, I can hardly see something useful to read them.”

Truth is trickier than just that. They have been knowing Mordo for a while and thought they would be able to understand his course of action. Instead, they have been fumbling around in the dark ever since he started his crusade. He hasn’t noticed that Everett got up and walked around the table. A hand on his shoulder wakes him up from his self-critique.

“Let’s get to work, then. Maybe you just need two more eyes. We’ll unravel it.”

Stephen prays Everett is right.

 

 

 

Almost a week passes. It flows in a blink of an eye, Stephen busy between teaching at Kamar Taj -also, trying to avoid Wong at all costs- and researching the papers of the aggressions, and Everett occupied with a nasty case at work, about some manual labourer who made money out of alien junk from New York’s attack.

Which also means they had very little time for themselves as well. And Stephen’s mood sank by reflex.

He is comparing two depositions when Everett comes in.

He raises his head in time to see the other’s eyes wide in concern.

Stephen observes his own reflection in the nearby mirror, checking for anything on his face to justify it. His reddened eyes speak about tiredness and another restless night. Like most of the times, he is overreacting. Stephen glares at him in return.

Besides, he is still far from getting any useful answer. And in the morning, one of Kamar Taj’s students, Charles, passed by on Wong’s behalf, to inform him about another attack.  It was carried away by one of Mordo’s associates, it seems. The man who was attacked is in hospital. His conditions serious enough to fear for his life. He texted Everett about it as soon as Charles left, omitting Mordo of course.

“How much sleep did you get lately?” Everett demands, not even trying to sound casual.

“Enough”, he grumbles.  

“You should take a break”. His head snaps back on the pages, a ready answer on his tongue “I can’t take a break. Not now, with another person in hospital.”

A brief silence follows.

“It’s not your fault. You are doing your best”. Everett’s words are kind and measured, where his own remark had been nothing but an unnecessary outburst.

Stephen must bite his tongue to stay silent.

 _Of course it’s my_ bloody _fault! All of it.._

But he doesn’t speak.

“Where is the folder from Denver?”, he asks, pissed with himself.

Everett is in front of the table in a couple of steps and lays his hand on the green folder that is right in front on him. That’s it.

Stephen sights and closes his eyes for a moment, seeking some relief. His headaches came back in full force and the afternoon announces itself as unbearable. He knows he should let Wong know about this, but he is too stubborn to admit it.

“Come on” Everett shushes his weary attempt to dismiss the fact. The palm of his hand rests the column of Stephen’s neck, willing to offer comfort. “We both need a break. And you didn’t show up at the park for a week or so. They will be worried”

And these words alone are capable to make Stephen feel like shit.

He didn’t just completely ignore the matter, consumed by his many thoughts. He is also messing up with Everett, when he is just trying to help. And he thought the day couldn’t be worse.

“I guess so”, he admits, feeling defeated.

 

 

What was supposed to be a quick walk through the park turns into spending the rest of the afternoon outside, quietly enjoying the last remains of sun and entertaining a bunch of boisterous children, happy to have Stephen back.

The sorcerer has just finished one of his usual tricks and he and Everett are about to resume their walk when a child runs after them. Stephen recognizes him immediately: he is a regular.

“Hi Danny” he greets him.

“Mr. Doctor” The boy seizes Everett before deciding to completely ignore him. “We were _this_ worried about you”. He waves his little arms around to underline the concept. It’s almost comic and Everett has to repress a chuckle.

“I’m sorry”. He means it.

He is still tired but at least the headache seems gone, for now. And he is glad they could spend some time outside. And it is all thanks to Everett..

“You can’t say that”

“What?” Stephen asks, taken by surprise by the child’s serious tone.

“ _Sorry._ Granny says she loves me when she is worried. And you can’t be sorry if she loves you.” Danny stops to consider his next words. “She loves me a lot these days”.

Stephen can hear Everett’s laugh beside him as he lowers to ruffle the boy’s hair, smiling.

“Thank you, I’ll keep it in mind”.

But his eyes are serious as he gets up, as they run all over Everett’s face, thoughtfully.

 

 

 

Stephen has been rather silent as they head back. After they have surpassed an old couple, he stops walking and turns to face Everett, who stops as well.

“I..I need to say something”. There is no one else close enough to hear them.

It’s clear he has been ruminating about it the whole time, Everett thinks.

“Go on then”, he encourages him, stepping closer.

The man is looking at him with a mix of worry and care that makes his hand itch. But he gives Stephen the space he needs to gather his thoughts.

The sorcerer breaths in and speaks slowly.

“It has been a long time since I- and back then it wasn’t even..” He pauses, looking away. Everett can see just how much Stephen is pissed off by his own behaviour. The man is used to be in control. Of his knowledge, of his magic, confident with both words and acts. And Everett alone has the privilege to make him falter.  

Stephen makes up his mind and resumes his speech, staring to the trees. His eyes are impossibly blue. “I have no idea if I am doing things right. And I want to do it the right way.”

Everett huffs very loudly, in the clear attempt to break through Stephen’s imposed posture. It works. The sorcerer’s eyes are back on him, wondering and almost..afraid?

“I don’t either. I don’t know _if there is_ a right way.” He shrugs and brings both his hands to grab Stephen’s shoulder, squeezing the toned muscles through the thick wool of the black coat.

“It’s not just you, you know?” Everett admits.

He smiles warmly and continues.

“What if we just let it happen. As we feel it.” He tilts his head, “How does it sound?”

Stephen has been staring at him and keeps staring, his mouth half parted, for a good five seconds after he finishes. He nibs at his lower lip, as if deciding the best route of action, before suddenly moving. He bends down just enough to steal a kiss from Everett’s surprised lips.

“Like this, you mean?”, he murmurs, slipping one hand over Everett’s waist.

“Yeah. Exactly like this.”

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG 100+ kudos, I'm literally crying, I'm so happy. I can't explain just how glad I am. I usually write to entertain myself but knowing someone can have a good time as well...it's great, thank you very much T^T  
> I needed this chapter to lead the story forward. I'm sorry if it turns out less interesting than the others.  
> Wien's conference is next, and with it Wakanda's epiphany to the outer world. But something else is cooking as well..  
> How do you think Stephen and Everett will deal with each other's revelations when the time comes? I'm serious, let me know ;D


	11. Frost

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite the chapter's title, there is going to be a lot of warmth, too. Enjoy it!
> 
> ps: I'll edit it again tomorrow morning, if I notice typos or else :P

 

There are people crowding into the balcony as Stephen walked across it, headed toward one of the mail classrooms. Several students greeted him on his way, his students whenever he has the chance to teach here. Kamar Taj is a hive of activity as always, and Stephen’s mind can’t help but notice that there is just a detail missing. Her.

He takes the stairs as he recalls the last talk he had with the Ancient. How peaceful she felt.

She guarded him about Mordo’s nature, but she encouraged him to find a middle ground, to cooperate with him. That’s one of the reason he can’t let himself giving up on the former colleague and friend. Not yet.

He knocks against the open door. Wong is teaching today. The friend looks up and when he sees him makes no effort to hide his worry. He addresses one of the senior students, Charlie, to take his place him with the meditation exercises. He nods toward Stephen, who silently greets back as he steps back outside, followed by Wong.

“Stephen”

“Wong” 

They walk back in Wong’s rooms in silence. As soon as the doors are closed -a soundproof spell works in every room – Stephen addresses the friend and colleague.

“Sorry I dropped by without notice. I supposed you might be interested.”  He uncovers a heavy folder from under his tunic and places it on the table.

“You did your homework.” The man sits and starts running through the dossier, eagerly.

“Yes. Unfortunately, it’s not enough.” Stephen lets himself fall on the opposite chair. He and Everett have been able to circumscribe the unresolved thefts but linking them with the attack was another matter at all. No more elements left on the sites to find some kind of match. They should wait for another case, but that also means..another aggression.

“For now. But this is going to help. Did your agent help with this?”, Wong raises his eyes to scrutinize him thoughtfully.

“He is”.

“Mhm” Wong reiterates, a deep frown on his front head. “It worries me that neither of us is able to see where this is going. I know you still have faith in Mordo’s redemption, but all of this…he might be a completely different person from the one he used to be.”

The thought troubles Stephen.

“I can’t give up on him”, he simply explains. He hasn’t told Wong about his last conversation with her. He never told anyone. He is not sure why.

“I know. But Stephen, you can’t keep blaming yourself.”  He moves his hands and the folder duplicates, over the table. “I’ll send it to London and bring one with me to Hong Kong. And I’ll have some of it shared among biggest communities. It might be useful.”. Once the copies have vanished, dropped into tiny portals toward their destinations, Wong casts another spell and some appear in front of them, followed by two bottle of Tsingtao beer.

“Now..I’d like to talk to you about something else, since I have barely seen you in the last week.”

“Yes sleep. No tea. Blablabla.” He lists out loud, rubbing his beard in the meanwhile.

Wong stares at him unimpressed. “Very funny.”

He pays him back with a mock grin, before taking a sip of his beer. But the friend is not about to give up.

“I’m not joking. Stephen, you need to face it. It will cause you problems in the long run. If it isn’t already”

Stephen has nothing to say, or maybe he is just one second too slow to reply. After all, that book flying through the apartment might have been just distraction or tiredness. And the on and off tickling of his hands a long-term side effect of his scars.

But it’s also safe to say Wong has learned to read past his craps, after all this time together.

“It has already started, is it?”

Stephen shakes his head profusely.

“Not at all.”  He clears his throat and concentrates his attention on his scarred fingers. “There is nothing wrong with me. Besides, we have urgent, actual problems to deal with.”

He gets up but the determination in Wong’s eyes tell him they are far from finished. After all, that’s what he gets for avoiding the friends for days to an end.

“You have to. I and the others can help you. And for as much as I appreciate his help, you should consider…”

Wong interrupts himself before finishing the sentence, he looks cautious, almost regretting to have even brought up the subject. It doesn’t matter. Stephen can practically feel his gaze hardening under Wong’s measured posture, blue and seawater tuning into steel grey.

But he has already guessed what this could be about.

“What? Spill it, Wong.” Stephen snarls, defensive. Wong stays silent for a moment, before making up his mind and elaborates.

“A new relationship can be..stressful. Especially for you.”

“I can’t believe this.”  Even after he helped them with finding a lead about Mordo, Wong still doubts him? Is it out of fear for their interests, were they to be in conflict because of their duties? Or is he actually thinking that it could worsen this imaginary problem of his? He hisses back. “Is it because you don’t trust him, me or what?!”

And yes, he just asked a question, but his feet think better and start moving toward the exit door, offended.

“Have you listened a word of what I told you during the last weeks? That’s not my point.”  Wong follows him close, his tone calm.  “Your feelings for him, they can be dangerous”.

Stephen has stopped his run for the door and in a couple of steps is back right in front of him. He is angry, angry as he hasn’t felt in a while.  Whatever imaginative explanation Wong is willing to share, he is surely not interested in hearing.

“I have nothing against Everett Ross, I assure you. But I think you should..take a pause. Take care of yourself by learning how to control your power-”

A pause.

His overloaded mind supplies him with the scenario. Telling Everett to slow things down. Not being able to see him. Or stealing a kiss as they sit on the couch to watch tv or taking a walk in the woods.

No more of anything.

No more of the one good thing that happened to him.

Emptiness. Cold, wide emptiness.

 

_“I won’t leave him”_

 

Stephen almost growls but the sound blends with a ragged, pained whine. A rush of impetuous, sudden cold wraps the air around them without notice and pervades the whole room in an instant. The wood planks of both floor and furniture cry to the sudden change of temperature, as a thin blanket of frost begins to dance all over the superficies, covering them. Wong is stepping aside, observing what has just happened in disbelief. His surprised exhale turns in a huff of vapour.

Stephen’s hands are tickling, and he is on the verge of panting from the effort to keep it – whatever is happening to him- at bay. He feels dead-cold as well.

“I- I have to g-o.”

He has not the courage to even look at Wong. His mind is filled with blind panic as he clumsily steps outside, already creating a portal, instead of using the gate.

He can hear e friend calling him, probably praying him to stop, to wait but he doesn’t want to listen.

Nor see the proofs of what he is so adamant to deny.

 

 

 

 

Everett apartment’s is empty when he drops out of the portal. It’s raining outside – it has been raining for a couple of days- and heavy drops stain the glass, rhythming Stephen’s breakdown.

What did just happen?

How?

He walks over the couch and sits there, lost.

Wong can’t be right. He can’t be.

Him being right would mean..

It would mean having a huge problem. And not just because it dealt with his magic and own health. It meant that if the problem was fixable – and it was a huge, terrible if – it implied a good, long amount of work, to learn how to react to it. And if emotions were a major trigger, as Wong’s word suggested..

Stephen must stop thinking, his breath short. He shuts his eyes close but thinks better when presented with a replay of what happened in Kamar Taj.

He can’t leave Everett.

If ignoring this magical issue might put his life in danger, he knows for sure that leaving Everett behind would kill him. Inside and out.

But, no. Wong must be wrong. In years of reading and studying, he never found anything about a different kind of sorcerers. Let alone a different magic. Does he suffer persistent insomnia? Yes. A lot of people do. Did he mess up a few spells? It’s just tiredness.

It’s just tiredness.

It will go away.

He slides down on the floor and stays there, resting his forehead against his knees, trying to ignore his common sense..

 

 

 

 

“Hello, gorgeous”

 

_Everett._

 

Stephen’s head jerks up. He didn’t even hear the lock, nor the door opening. He must have been drifting.

He follows the man he has come to love to greet him, while closing the door.

“Have you just arrived?” Everett asks, turning on the lights. “Better”, he comments to himself. Stephen keeps staring.

Jacket and suitcase are dropped on the table as Everett makes himself at home, sappily looking at him as he steps in front of the couch.  He grins, as he leans forward, one arm stretched to help himself, against the armrest. “Give me a kiss”, he demands. 

The touch is meant to be quick, but Stephen is still shaken and dwells into the touch, as his forehead rests against Everett’s.

“You ok?”

Stephen opens his eyes and melts under Everett’s concerned gaze. He must look miserable. He glances down and licks his lower lip as he apologizes.

“Yeah, sorry.” He nods. “Just had a hell of a day”.

He raises his hand to cup the other’s jaw, but he doesn’t go far. Next thing he knows Everett shivers and moves away abruptly.

“Jesus, Stephen! You are freezing!”

“I’m not”, but Everett is already moving, walking around the couch as he orders him.

“Stay put.”

Stephen is immediately provided with a couple of plaids, inside which he nests more than a little pleased, as Everett handles something in the kitchen, judging by the sounds.

He moves his attention outside, where afternoon set in. How long did he spend on the floor, trying to come to terms with god knows what is happening to him?

Everett comes back with two smoking hot cups. Tea then.

He has changed into his jump suite and joins Stephen among the cushions. They quietly drink their tea, while Everett updates him about his day at work. Stupid stuff, like the fact Marthe apparently has half the office at her feet. Or the damn photocopying machine that won’t work, no matter how many times they call for the assistance.

He doesn’t ask about what upset Stephen. He just commits himself to make it better.

Once the tea is finished, Everett steals his cup and leaves it on the table. He stretches his legs.

“Come here”.

They lay down. The couch is big enough to do so, luckily.

Stephen keeps a minimum of distance, now well aware to be still a little too cold, considered the average human temperature. He also desperately tries just not to think about the reason. Everett of course doesn’t waste time to hook him closer and hugs him tightly instead.

 “Idiot.”

Stephen huffs at the compliment.

No, he could never come back to a life where he couldn’t have this. No matter Wong’s concerns. Justified or not.

“I’m not going to sleep.”, he mutters eventually, drowsy with warmth.

“Well, I want to take an epic nap spooning you, on this couch. So you will make me the favour to not leave until I say otherwise.”

Stephen has suddenly lost his voice. He turns to face Everett, but he nuzzles against his shoulder instead, finding a safe harbour to rest, to hide from all the demons trying to hunt him down. ~~~~

 

 

 

Stephen wakes up at the sound of traffic down the street. Maybe a loud driver or something. He shifted again, giving his back to Everett, who promptly locked him in his arms.

He feels better.

Another shout and a poorly closed car door are enough to wake up Everett, too.

“Mhmh”, which leads to a more articulated, “Hour?”

Stephen tilts his head toward the kitchen and catches glimpse of the clock. 5am.

They passed out on the couch.  

“We slept the night. It’s early, though.” He murmurs, burying himself again under the blanket.

Everett takes his time to kiss his neck and grins again his skin.

“You fell asleep.” He sounded extremely satisfied with himself.

“Don’t get used to it” Stephen warns him mildly. “Besides, you passed out, too. You look exhausted, these last few days.”

Everett has been working a lot. And helps him with his files, too. He really should find a way to make it better. And then, there is the other thing.

It has been weeks since the poisoning. There have been touches, kissing, a fair amount of snogging and sleepovers.. And there have been dinners, dates, and _yes_ , also a lot of work but still. Maybe it’s time to-

“Says the pot calling the kettle black” Everett mocks him, before adding “We’d all need a holiday”.

A sudden idea strikes Stephen. He turns to face Everett, a little carelessly.

“Would you let me?”

“What?” Everett frowns, lost.

“We could go. A trip. If you want.” At Everett’s blank expression he adds some details, as they pop up in his mind.  

 “It can be something quick, maybe just the week end. We can choose everywhere we want to go.” But Everett hasn’t still given any sign of acknowledgement, so Stephen hurries to retreat.

“Or maybe..uhm, another time, when you are more-”, but he has to stop talking, occupied with an unexpected kiss.

“Oh God, yes”, Everett breaks apart, and he looks so damn happy.

“Fine”

“Good”. They both chuckle.

“Where do you want to go?” The sorcerer asks, running through possible destinations.

“Somewhere still warm. No tropics..just..a little sunnier, maybe?”, he reasons, glancing out of the window.  

“Good food” Stephen supplies, slipping one foot between Everett’s calves, absently brushing them.

“Mhmh”, Everett agrees, brushing his hand down his hip, marking it with a hypnotic movement of his thumb. It’s extremely distracting.

Neither of them adds more, and Stephen take his chance to taste Everett’s neck. Everett sights. The movement of his hand doesn’t stop. Instead, Stephen feels the other’s fingers slip under his shirt, to resume the same pattern as before.

“No entertainments?” Everett impishly mumbles.

Stephen hates himself for taking so much time to put an answer together. And just because the other is massaging his hipbone and-

“I think we’ll manage”, he finally breaths out, melting their mouths together.

He lets his leg slip between Everett’s, fully this time, and opens them slowly, until he reaches the friction he craves.

Even through the layers of fabric between them, Stephen can feel Everett’s weight. He can feel him getting harder as they keep kissing each other, open mouth.

But that’s when Stephen can’t refrain from moaning -it’s not even a desperate one _yet_ \- but it seems to wake up Everett. He breaks up the contact and looks down at them, breathing hard. So does Stephen.

“We need to get up right now if we want to wait until the week end.”

“Do we, now?”

“I’m going to hell…but, yes. You deserve more than this couch for what I have in mind”. And saying so, he gets closer and against everything he has just been stating, he indulges nibbling Stephen’s neck.

“God..”

Everett trembles with the effort and gets up, sitting.

“Up. Now.”

If it were not for the affected voice and raggedy status he is versing in, Stephen would be entitled to feel offended.

“Yes Sir”

Everett’s eyes snaps back on him, going wide. That’s not simple excitement. It’s stupor and pure, feral hunger.

A kink then. Good to know.

Who knew teasing could be this fun, after all.

He must be showing how much it pleases him, because Everett scowls at him, on his way to the bathroom. “You are the worst.”

He doesn’t really sound convincing.

 

 

 

 

Later in the afternoon, they are working at the last attack’s report when Everett’s phone starts ringing.

"Hello?"

Stephen sees Everett’s face going bright with joy in matter of seconds.

“Hi, how are you?”

An excited voice on the other end chatters for a moment.

“What? Of course! Which hour? I see. – No, no, it’s fine. ..I’ll text you, ok? Later”. He hangs up. "Do you mind if we take a break?” He waves the phone, explaining. “It was Shuri. She is coming and asked if I had some spare time to spend together- would you maybe-"

"Thanks, but I think I am in no state to meet a princess right now. I’ll be fine”

In fact, he was wearing an old jumpsuit and a pullover he made appear from his own apartment – not really in the mood to go back, yet-, and he needed to shave. “Is she staying in town?"  
"I don't know. If she does would you like if we take her out for dinner?". "Of course." In fact, Stephen is looking forward to meeting the young woman who saved Everett.

The other man quickly gets dressed and retrieves the keys of his car, before kissing Stephen's head on the way out. "Text you later then."

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is the first of a couple -at least- of chapters, which are essential to the main plot.   
> Stephen is about to find out something very important..


	12. Where are we now?

 

 

A large and unmistakeable shadow shines on the asphalt right in front of Everett. It disappears in matter of seconds. No one notices of course, too busy with their lives and the chaos of the street. No one except Everett.

Besides, Wakandan planes are just so efficient.

The palace hosts but offices and subsidiary companies. It also has the advantage of a wide, flat rooftop. He waits outside until he recognizes Shuri’s silhouette jostling through the crowd.

“Your Majesty”, he greets her when she gets closer enough to keep their conversation private.

“Special Agent Ross-” she parrots him. He rolls his eyes.

“You know I hate it when you call me like that.” Not in a billion of years he might have imagined he would develop such a solid friendship with a brilliant, clever girl such as Shuri.

Who is sticking her tongue out in response, obviously. 

He chuckles. “How are ya- Ehi!”. She has just punched him on the shoulder.

“Great! Like capital G-reat..” Shuri declares, rather excited. No, better. She is enthusiastic.

“Well, good for you. And where did you leave your brother?”. During the phone call, he was under the impression the two of them were travelling together.

“Ah. Some real estate business kept him busy in Oakland. He will pick me up by five on the way home.”

The luck of such an advanced technology at disposal, Everett thinks. No one could travel faster. Well, except for Stephen. But then his brain catches up with Shuri’s words.

“Oakl- Wait..Is it about Killmonger?”

Shuri smiles knowingly.

“Do you know some place where we can talk in peace?”

 

 

 

Shuri takes another bite from her slice of pizza.

“..and he is going to announce it in Wien, at the next UN Counsel meeting.”

Everett is aware he must be staring at her in the most absurd way. It doesn’t matter. It’s just..Wakanda revealing itself to the world.. It’s going to change everything.

“Oh my God. I- I mean, it’s amazing. And-”

“I know!”. She is gloating. They giggle.

“It’s absolute crazy. I need another drink”. He makes a sign to the bartender for another round of beers.

Once they have been served, she seizes him, before making her request.

“We would like for you to be there.”

Everett is speechless.

Their friendship- with Shuri, and T’Challa and Nakia- was born out of an uncertain situation, to develop into something neither of them would have dreamed of. And now his friends were about to risk everything, willing to make the right choices their ancestors were too afraid of. And they are willing to share this moment with him.

“Of course, I’ll be there.” He pledges, thrilled.  He looks away, trying to get rid of too much emotions. He tries a joke, “Can you imagine those assholes’ faces ..?”

That has Shuri burst out in laughs. She needs a good minute to calm down.

God, it is going to be awesome. Everett can’t help but thinking about Thunderbolt and his witches’ hunt against the wanted Avengers. He is determined to chase them and has been deploying a lot of resources the agencies could put to better use to resolve real problems. People’s problems. It is nice to know that despite the foolishness of men like Talbot, the world is still able to take care of itself. And Wakanda’s help is a big counterweight on the scale.

Shuri checks her phone. Which reminds Everett of the plans for the evening. But the princess distracts him from his thoughts.

“Done with this. Now, what about you? Everything ok?”

Everett considers everything that happened since he came back from Wakanda.

God, _ok_ is a misunderstanding.

He leans back against his chair and finishes his beer.

“Never been better”.

” Is that so, colonizer?” Shuri teases him, while playing with one of her bracelets.  “Something I should know?”

“I met someone”. It’s the first time he acknowledges it out loud, he realizes. Marthe must know there is something going on with Stephen, other than work. But she had the tact not to mention it.

“Uhuh. Did my brother sing on the praises of Love to you as well?”

She wins a pleased chuckle from Everett.

“So he did sort it out with Nakia, after all.” She leans over the table, impatiently.

“Yes, he did. And you are straying. Tell me about them.”

“His name’s Stephen. He’s tall. Dark hair, with some stripes of silver.” He touches his own hair by reflex. “And sea colour eyes. I met him..over work. He is kind and more than a bit stubborn actually-”

He is a volcano, always moving, learning, floating and then there would be times, like the day before, when Stephen would just be quiet like the water in Harlem Meer that day when they met in the park. Everett still doesn’t know everything that happened to Stephen before he met him. But they are building something. At first, they were both afraid to screw up, despite the best intentions. They didn’t. Sometimes Everett wonders if he should worry about how much deep Stephen found a place under his skin, and he knows Stephen wonders about it as well from time to time, whenever he catches him observing their joined hands on the couch or else.

He loves him.

He knew for a while. But spelling things out loud is another matter at all and Everett is now feeling all the impact of the realization upon him.

He is in love with Stephen and-

“Man. ..you are so fucked”. Shuri exclaims in awe, bringing him back to reality. He must have been daydreaming in front of her.

He feels his check heating up but absolutely refuses to give in to embarrassment in front of the girl. He counterattacks. “I will remind you when your time comes, lady”.

Bullseye. Shuri shifts a little too quickly on her chair and fakes boredom.

“Maybe even sooner than imagined”, he adds, maliciously.

“Oh..shut up!” she complains, waving her hand to ask the check.

And when he can’t hold back a snicker, Shuri gives him her best middle finger. 

 

 

 

By the time Everett comes back home he expects to find Stephen gone. Instead, he is still here. He simply moved from the table to the couch. He’s listening to an LP. During the last weeks they have been spending more and more time together, at the Sanctorum or at Everett’s. But these last two days, as far as Everett knows, Stephen has hardly visited the sorcerers’ institution. He suspects it might have something to do with Wong. Since their last meeting, Stephen seemed intended to avoid the topic whenever Everett brought it up. He wonders why, even if he is more that glad to have him around like this.

 “Welcome back”, Stephen anticipated him, stretching like a lazy cat. Not asleep, then.

“Didn’t know you were into him.” A song by David Bowie is playing from the speakers.

“One day you might explain to me how you managed to track down a signed copy of the ’72 live in Santa Monica _._.”

“You realize you are a walking music encyclopaedia, right?” He says, hanging his coat to the hall stand. “What have you been doing?”

“Research. Studying a new technique.” Stephen waves his hand as to clarify. “Where is your princess?” he asks.

“I’m sorry. She just dropped by and couldn’t stay for dinner. By now she will be flying over the Canaries”.

 “Impressive.”  Stephen concedes. “How did it go?”

Everett’s mind goes back to his conversation with Shuri. The last bit in specific. He doesn’t answer straightaway, joining Stephen on the couch and gently jostling him so that he can sit with Stephen displayed on his lap. They continue listening to the music.

“She is doing just fine. And I have no more energies to keep up with teenagers.”

His hand run through Stephen’s hair. He knows he adores it. In fact, he is rewarded with a deep sight.

“I’d like to bring you there, sometime soon.” He suggests warmly.

 “Might be a little problematic”, Stephen chuckles, a little embarrassed. “I can’t enter the country if they don’t grant me access. They are magically protected. I tried to, when-well..”. He swallows, immediately setting on another subject altogether. “Anyway, I will swear to keep all their secrets if it can help.”

“No need to”. Everett admits, after a moment.

Stephen sits up, one arm stretched against the seatback.  

“Why so?”, Stephen asks, clearly intrigued by his tone.

Everett imagines he can break the news with just one person. He grins in anticipation and speaks.

 

 

 

 

Later after dinner, they are watching tv.

Stephen took the news well. He did point out that the announcement would have the countereffect of creating a fair amount of extra work for Everett. It is after all, a brand-new scenario. And after centuries of isolation, who might say? Maybe Wakandan sorcerers could be interested in making new acquaintances as well?

The journalist on the news’channel is talking about midterm’s elections. One candidate’s statement has Stephen groaning in disappointment.

Everett continues observing him, the cold colors of the screen casting puddles of light on his face.

“So, when you said you couldn’t enter Wakanda..” He speaks before realizing he has meant to ask about it the whole time.

Stephen doesn’t move.

“Yes”

_Yes, I’m listening. Yes, I was willing to come and rescue you. Yes, I was going mad because I couldn’t._

Everett hears all of it. He remembers the anxiety in Stephen’s voice when he opened the door of his apartment, that night.

 

“..Thank you”

Stephen doesn’t look away from the screen. Although his hand moves to clasp Everett’s ankle. A reminder they are both here, safe and sound. He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t speak for a while and Everett lets him his time.

“Spain”, he mutters at last, turning to face him, a cautious excitement in his tone.

The sudden change of subject leaves Everett confused. “What?”

“We..we could go to Spain. I have been thinking. Still warm enough. I checked. And you speak Spanish. So..”

“Absolutely yes.” Everett drags Stephen’s face closer and kisses him. He pauses, stricken by a sudden doubt. “Is there a sanctorum in Spain, too?”

“Nope. But there is one in London” Stephen grasps his arm, unbalancing him, and pushes him down against the cushions, grinning playfully. Everett lets him. “We could drop by, on the way back. And use their portal to get home.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

They ignore the rest of the show in favour of testing each other self-control. It’s safe to say it has become more and more troublesome to keep his own thoughts at bait, especially now, with the closer prospect of having Stephen all for himself for more than a few hours. And he knows Stephen is getting impatient to take the next steps in their relationship a swell, if the way he is devouring him is of any indication. Therefore, it’s even more funny that they somehow decided to wait until their holiday to..put out a feeler. And not even talking about it.

 

 

 

Everett worries this week is never going to pass. Instead, in a blink of an eye the day comes for him to leave for Wien. It’s almost midday and Everett has been packing what he needs for the assignment. After that, he decides to take no better advantage of the remaining time than kissing Stephen senseless- and being kissed senseless, truth to be told- on the couch.

The transport supervisor just called him, letting him know they were about to pick him up. Everett squeezes Stephen’s hip one more time, in the attempt to break away. But he lacks conviction and it doesn’t work. Especially since he is now the one licking his upper lip.

“I have to go. Plane leaves within an hour”. He literally begs against his cheek. This close, his low timbre makes Stephen’s breath itches.

“Can’t I bring you there instead?”

“Mh. And how do I explain it to the others?”. Everett tried to picture the faces of his colleagues if he were to pop up in Wien in matter of minutes. Through a magical portal.

Nope.

“That your boyfriend is a pushy bastard _and_ a sorcerer.”

Stephen’s mind catches up a second later with what has just slipped. He stops moving by reflex, but Everett is faster, cupping his neck and smashing them together again. Everett’s tongue takes its time to let Stephen know how much he appreciates the title.

“I like the sound of it” he huffs, when they break apart. “Could use you as escape plan to leave the party sooner..” he smirks, a little sassy.

“The sooner the better”, Stephen pushes himself harder against him. They have planned to leave as soon as Everett comes back from Europe. It’s an unpleasant delay, but Everett needs to report back about the conference. And since he knows what is going to happen, he foresees a hell of a meeting. Luckily enough he asked for a few days of leave in advance. And since he is not used to, the agency gladly accepted the request. They most certainly wouldn’t act against the one agent who seems to be in King T’Challa’s good graces.

 

Everett sights when another text makes his phone chip.

“It’s them.” They break apart, for real this time, and Everett gets up to recollects his bag and coat.

“Where is my book?”

Everett dug his heels in learning some Wakandan. It started shortly after that first day in the Sanctorum. Despite his efforts, Wakandan demands a lot of study and after learning the written alphabets, he is now approaching the most basic conversational skills.

“I could give it a try during the flight.” He shrugs at Stephen’s arched eyebrow.

Stephen’s eyes rapidly scan the room. There..

“You left it on the top shelf” He rapidly steps around the couch to reach the opposite wall. He recollects the volume and turns to pass it to Everett.

Who is watching him utterly bewildered. Stephen frowns and stops halfway.

“It’s this one, right?” He checks the cover to be sure. It is, indeed. But Everett ignores him.

“You are floating.”

Stephen chuckles and steps closer to him. By now he doesn’t even think about it anymore. Whenever he is with the Cloak of Levitation, they are used to move in perfect harmony.

“That’s hardly news, is it?”, he lets out.

“Stephen, _you_ are floating” Everett points at the floor, to stress the concept. “It’s not Levi”

The cape, mentioned, pops up from nowhere and places itself between Everett and the door. And Stephen is still one meter afar from the floor.

Fuck.

He looks down, where his feet clearly missed their memo about gravity.

_Fuck._

“Uhm.” It’s all Stephen manages to say, too caught up between his panic and the sudden realization he feels himself drowning with power. He concentrates, and after a couple of seconds he perceives the familiar sensation decrease until his feet safely touch the ground. The sensation, however, doesn’t dissipate in the least.

“Do you do it, usually?” Everett is smiling widely, probably unaware of his surging turmoil. He gulps and tries to keep it quiet until he leaves.

“First time for everything, I guess”, Stephen tries to joke, but the humour in his voice falls short. His hands are itching so much that he needs to stretch them out, as he hides them behind his back.

“Are you ok?” Everett asks, dubious. Another chip from a text makes him swear and reaching for the phone.

“Yes, of course.” Stephen forces himself to speak. “They must be downstairs.”

Everett sighs. “They are. You can watch the show on the news.”

Another kiss. “I’ll be back in no time.”

And he watches him go. The door closes.

Stephen keeps staring at the white panels, a dull buzz filling his head.

_Calm down._

He feels dizzy. He knows it’s the shock. All the denial he has been manifesting won’t be of any use anymore.

No one flies around their flat on their own. Except maybe some Avengers.

He sits down, his hands slamming into the floor, as he gives in to dread.

The cape clutches his shoulders trying to offer some comfort, perceiving her owner’s distress.

“I should have listened” he bares his teeth. The power rushes in waves through his body, willing to get out.

_Calm. The fuck. Down._

When he finally manages to relax a bit, he loudly breaths out, his body shaking with labour, feeling drained. He sits back, leaning against the closest wall, his heart still pounding in his chest, hard and clear.

“Jesus..”. He didn’t notice, but his hands must have canalized some part of his power, discharging it on the floor similarly to electrostatic energy. Except now there were accusing holes on the carpet at the entrance and smell of burned cloths.

Stephen moves his hands to repair the damage…and nothing happens.

He tries again.

He can’t use his powers. Fear piles up with panic.

He feels truly lost. For the first time since the night of the car crash.

What’s happening to him?

“I guess a portal is out of question..”  

He gives himself another minute before rushing on his feet, turning off lights and heating, and leaving in a rush toward the Sanctorum. 

 

 

 

The faint sound of steps outside the room distracts Wong from his meditation. It’s late and most of the others are already asleep or otherwise occupied and he took his chance to use the room in solitude.

Even without such a peaceful environment, he would recognize Stephen’s pace everywhere.

As to confirm his guess, he can hear Stephen step in and waiting on the doorstep.

Wong doesn’t bother to turn around. He is glad he came back so soon after their discussion. He shouldn’t have let him leave like that without sorting things out.  

“I’m sorry for what I said yesterday. It wasn’t my place.”

A raggedy breath comes within his earshot.

“It really was.”

Wong’s eyes flash open as he hurries to face the friend, standing up from the tatami. He is rewarded with a worrisome image. Stephen is leaning against the wall. He is sweated, pale, and worse, he is not even pretending not to be scared.

“Stephen..”

“You redecorated. I like it”, he jokes but his voice falls short. 

“You look aw-”

“What you said to me. About my magic..” Stephen cuts him short, staring at him.

Wong decides to take the lead this time. They can’t have this discussion with Stephen in such a poor state.

“Come. Sit down.”  His hands move as his magic moves them both from the meditation room to the healing ward. An old monk is on duty tonight but Wong dismisses him with a nod.

A minute later they are alone. Wong starts trafficking with the liquors and medicines in the sideboard before offering Stephen a tonic.

“Where is Mr. Ross?” he inquires.

“Everett- he flew to Wien. Work.” Stephen murmurs. “Is it fixable?”

“It’s not a disease. There is nothing to fix.”

“There is if I start malfunctioning.” Stephen’s fingers turn white against the cup.

“What happened?”. The episode from two days ago was enough to confirm all Wong’s suspects, but not to make Stephen aware. Something else must have persuaded him.

Stephen rapidly updates him about what happened no longer than one hour ago.

“I’ve been feeling good. Really good. It’s not like I’m having problems to perform. Not until today, at least. It’s more.. about the volume of it. About.. control.” He admits.

Wong sights heavily. “I know.”

Stephen’s pale eyes pierce him. They seem capable of dissect the very essence of the universe, and he remind him of her so much, whenever he does. Especially today.

“How?” Stephen asks.

“Powerful sorcerers were rare, even in the past. Your nature is very powerful and hard to control, if you don’t learn it properly. A lot of them couldn’t find the right equilibrium to work it out. You need to train, at least until you adapt to it.”

“What happened to those?”

“Couldn’t use their magic the way they were supposed to. They had to give it up or the others had to take away their powers, for safety.”

Wong retrieves a couple of cups and summons a smoking teapot, a scarce addition to a conversation they put off long enough.

No more.

“You might have heard about Morgana.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter..and a lot of stuff, too!! And finally, they are going to talk about Stephen's problem.  
> How is Everett going to react to the holes in his carpet? 
> 
> Please let me know if you spot errors&Co. My eyes won't work anymore by now. Also, I have a job interview tomorrow, I need a chamomile (which is not tea, as someone kindly reminded us this week lol <3) 
> 
> Hugs


	13. This is a rule

 

 

That day he was wandering on the sidewalk, not far from the garage where he had just talked with Patrick Pangborn.  


_‘The place you're looking for is called Kamar Taj. But the cost is high.’_

_‘How much?’_

_‘I'm not talking about money.’_ There was no medical miracle.

Not those he was used to, at least. The man was healthy, undoubtedly. But how? The same -unclear- fate was waiting for him as well. As long as he believed him. After they had talked, he walked back to his empty attic, feeling completely, utterly lost for the second time in his life. The first one was when his sister Donna died. His has never been a perfect family. His father never being around or too busy complaining about everything. His mother too submissive to act against him. In the end it was him and Donna. Older than him, always there to help him, even once she left for college.

Then she died, drowned in a river. They were swimming, not far from home, when she felt ill and drowned.

After that he left and got to college as well. To study medicine. To save people. People like her, who had the misfortune to have a good-for-nothing brother by her side when she needed help. That's how he arrived there. The grief never healed and just had him detached and selfish, until human relations became irrelevant. Avoidable.

Better alone than feel like that again. He didn’t even visit his father’s deathbed.

His mother died soon after Donna’s accident and with his father’s death, he was left by himself. For years. With the accident he lost everything he put between himself and the world. A filter to ease solitude and shame and fear. Now, years later, he came to terms with some of his ghosts. And solitude found its match with the friends he made along the way and evaporated for good with Everett. He loves him. And this sentiment overcomes his fear to suffer from life’s hitches and his tendency to protect himself from that chance. Everett is worth it.

And still, he feels the same old panic dragging him down now that he is no longer refusing the truth. Simply because it threatens to jeopardize all of it…

 

“You might have heard about Morgana.”

 

Stephen freezes. A shiver runs down his back, not unlike from the one he experienced the one time he had shaken hands with Thor. An itch he came to recognize by now. Premonition. Of what he is not able to say.

“ _Morgan le fair_ , the witch? As -as in the stories about Camelot?”, he forces himself to elaborate, unable so see the link with his own situation. What has a children’s tale to do with him?

Wong nods, comprehensive of the friend’s doubts.

“She was no witch. A sorcerer? The very embodiment.”

“She was like me.”

It’s probably the first time he acknowledges Wong’s theories out loud. After what happened tonight, he is no sure what to think anymore. Wong keeps telling her story.

“When the others understood what she might become, the Lady of Avalon took her under her protection, teaching her. She was set on the right path.”

What happened? Stephen silently asks himself. Wong anticipates him.

“She fell in love with Arthur Pendragon. Even if you hear all sort of versions about the story. They were hard times, and she found herself involved in politics and a breeding war. Sorcerers are not allowed to interfere with mundane affairs for a reason.”

It is true. One of the few rules involving non-magic interactions, is to not interfere with world’s events using mystical powers, under any circumstance. You are only allowed to do so in the case you are defending Earth’s reality itself. Stephen understood the whys of it but never considered what might have lead their predecessors to impose such a ban. Not anymore.

“Because she did.”

Wong remains silent for a while, gathering his knowledge to take a further step in his report.

“The sources are not clear. There is almost nothing left in the archives. Morgana used her powers and knowledge to help him, distrusting her people’s warnings. Arthur died during the battle and she went mad. By then in Avalon, as soon as the Lady passed away, the sorcerers had already decided to take away her powers, in fear of her. They fought her in some place near Falmouth. She died during the confrontation, ended up drowning in the stormy sea.”

Silence falls between them. Stephen should be thinking about his power’s dangers, and instead he can’t help but pitying the woman’s fate. Drowned, like Donna. Despised for her powers, in love with an ill-fated man.

He can see Wong’s worries about his feelings for Everett..

“Do you understand why I’m trying to persuade you to address this?”, the friend prompts.

Stephen shifts under the sorcerer’s scrutiny.

“I do. Now that you tried to instil some terror in me, how am I supposed to do this?”

“First, you could avoid undertaking an affair with a certain agent. But I think I’m a little late for that.” He states, pointing at the purple bruise the edge of Stephen’s tunic failed to conceal.

The warm remark brings back the memory of the last time he spoke with Wong. Of the prospective to lose Everett and the temperature menacingly dropping.

“I’m sorry..about the other day. I didn’t mean to.”

Wong shakes his head.

 “Don’t apologize. Actually, I do like him. But having him around is a terrible liability. Is he worth the risk?”

This is a simple question to answer.

“He is.”

Wong observes him for a long moment, before considering himself satisfied with Stephen’s resolution.

“Well, all we can do is helping you to control it. If you manage, you would probably become the most powerful sorcerer on the planet”. His face darkens slightly. “Although, until you stabilize, you should avoid engaging in serious spells. And you also need to step back from looking for Mordo. There is no saying what he might try to do knowing you are an easy target now.”

Stephen curses silently.

“If the problem is overload, why couldn’t I use my magic back in New York?” Stephens asks, concerned.

“I think you are approaching this the wrong way. It’s more about..fluctuations. You have this giant tank at your disposal, but you are not able to use the valve yet. Sometimes you let go too much, and sometimes..”

“..nothing at all.”

“And these new sensations, they mess up with the way you deal with common, dimensional energy, and you end up without magic at all. I know you think you might make him reason, but Stephen, I fear the very opposite..”

Stephen’s dry chuckle resonates in the room.

“You can’t really blame him”, he murmurs under his breath, but Wong scowls him.

“You are always so harsh with yourself, it makes me wonder if that’s why you can’t be harsh with anybody else.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Stephen inquires Wong, who keeps sipping his tea in response. Obviously.

“Maybe your agent will change this attitude of yours.” He states eventually.

Everett.

What is Everett going to think of it? How is he going to take it?

As if they were not dealing with enough stuff already..

“I need to speak to Everett. I can’t keep it from him.”

No use in rushing back home though. Everett wouldn’t be back before Wednesday.

“I thought that much. I’ll talk with the older sorcerers, they’ll start searching all the sources we can find. We’ll think about something, Stephen.”

 

 

 

It’s Tuesday afternoon. Stephen came back to the Sanctorum a couple of hours ago. He could have waited until the next morning.

No point in waiting Everett there, though.

He got more and more anxious about it, until Wong begged him to just go home and relax.

He wished.

But what if Everett were to call himself out, too many problems to be worth it?

Or maybe he would be scared to stay close to him?

His powers came back after a while but, as Wong suggested, he avoided to use it _at all_ , except for his exercises.

He was now trying to make a cup levitate from the floor. The trick is to do so with a constant flow of energy.

This is one of the first exercises for new sorcerers. It appears he needs to go back to the basics now that he has to deal with two different sources of magic, mixed together.

He is struggling, of course.

The cup keeps waving, more or less dangerously, as it raises.

“ _Come on-_ ”

After swaying dangerously, the cup rapidly raises to hit the ceiling and poorly crushes against the floor. It breaks with a loudly, incriminating crack.

“I liked that one”

Stephen had been sitting on the carpet but jumps on his feet, utterly startled.

Everett is standing in front of him.

“What did that cup to deserve such a treatment?” he asks hilarious, looking at the broken pieces behind Stephen.

“Hi” Stephen murmurs a little dumbly, just to add a more firmly, “Hm- welcome back”.

“Hello”, Everett chuckles and closes up the distance. “Shuri dropped me on her way to Oakland. No need to hide her amazing plane now, right?”

He embraces Stephen’s lower back and pulls him closer to kiss him. Stephen leans down a bit and loses himself in Everett’s scent. He sights, almost letting go of all the stress he has been piling up since he left.

Almost.

Stephen is still processing the fact that Everett is in his arms and that he is back sooner than expected and that he has no idea of how to tell him and he stays silent a little too long. Or at all.

“Everything all right?” Everett asks, pulling back, because he is not stupid and realizes Stephen is a bit too tense.

 “Not..really” he confesses, his voice a little too low.

Stephen sees Everett shifting from comfort to defensive alert within seconds. His eyes fill with worry and tension.

“Did something happen while I was away?”

“Not exactly.” Stephen starts, then elaborates some more. “I need to talk to you. About something.”

He takes a moment to make order in his head, which makes Everett even more alarmed. He drags him to the couch.

“Let’s sit”. Stephen nods.

Everett tries to reassure him by squeezing his hand.

“I’m listening.”

_Into the battle, then._

“I.. Wong has been saying my magic acts ..differently. From others’.”

Everett frowns deeply, and if Stephen had to name it, there is surprise in his expression, as if he expected something else altogether. But he is nervous, and it’s gone in a moment, when Everett focuses on him again and speaks.

“O-k..”

Stephen continues, slowly. “He has had concerns for some time now, but these last few months have proved him right”.

Everett ponders over the other’s words for a moment. His eyes go wide.

“Your insomnia..”

“Mh.”

“And the rest-”

“Yes”

He rapidly adds the few information Wong had been able to share about his status. When he finishes he sights, waiting, eyes on the floor.

Everett’s hands come to rest on his neck’s column, to get his full attention. He is almost shaking from the tension.

“Are you ok?”

Everett is worried. No, he is scared.

_Are you scared of me?_

 

Stephen diverts his glance. Everett hurries to cover his hands with his own, trying to calm him. But he can’t look him in the eyes, afraid to read something he might not like.

“Yes. I mean, I am just malfunctioning, as to say. I have to learn how to control all this power.”

_Please, tell me what you are thinking_

_Tell me you are not leaving_

 

“..and- I know I promised you to go to Barcelona but. Maybe if we can stay here-”

 

“Let’s go.”

 

Everett cuts him off before he can finish, leaving him somewhere between surprised and confused. He hurries to explain himself better.

“Everett, what I was trying to say-“

However, Everett’s hand comes to cover his mouth, impatient.

“I know what you are trying to say, you cock. I don’t mean to Spain.”

This time it’s Stephen’s turn to frown at him in confusion. Everett looks pissed, and worried.

“What are you talking about?” He asks, moving the other’s hand out of the way.

Everett straights up, piercing him with his best military-stare.

“You said you just need to learn how to control this, right? And you told me Kamar Taj is where you learn things. So we are going. Now“. He gets up from the couch to stress the concept.

As if it might ease Stephen’s utter shock.

Going to Kamar Taj? With Everett?

He thought Everett would have demanded some space, or maybe been pissed by the change of plans they were both eager of..

Instead..

He stands up from the couch as well.

“But.. you have work. Besides-”

“I can take it easy for some time and I can ask one of you guys to open a portal if I can’t help it. Actually, I might be even more punctual than usual.” Everett sound extremely chill about this.

Stephen breathes, trying to calm down, to make Everett reason.

“Everett, it might take more than a few days, you don’t-“

Wrong.

Everett sniffs. He knows by now how to read him. He is getting angry.

He silences himself. And Everett counterattacks, snapping.

“I do, actually, _doctor_. And don’t even start convincing me you can do this from here, on your own. As you explained to me, Kamar Taj has all the resources you need, and you have friends there, I believe.”

Stephen’s shoulders drop, defeated by Everett’s mix of authority and care.

Everett observes his surrender in silence. When he is sure the message got through, he steps in front of him and claims his victory placing a rapid kiss on Stephen’s temple.

 “And most important, I couldn't leave you even if Nick Fury ordered me.” He whispers. The kiss distracts him, but as soon as Everett lets go of him, the words kick in.

“Wait, isn't he..” Everett’s eyebrow arches knowingly. He is already texting someone -probably Marthe.

“A funny story for another time. Pick up what you need. I’ll make a couple of calls, while I sort out the bloody meeting at the agency. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.”

“Ok”.

Stephen stares at the broken cup. He feels a little guilty at the idea he thought Everett might have reacted in any other way. Or maybe it’s only instinctive to worry about the people you care when something unexpected comes in a way. It’s not about doubting them, but doubting your own value to them.

“And..Stephen?”

He raises his glance from the carpet to listen.

Everett’s glance is gentle, but firm.

“Don’t try to push me away from your problems. Ever. This is a rule. As I recall, I demanded the right to add them along the way.”

Sometimes Time stops. Even without using the Eye of Agamot, it seems.

Something gets stuck in his throat, and Stephen nods, too busy holding back whatever he is feeling, as Everett huffs and walks out, already busy on the phone.

 

 

They are going. Together.

To Kamar Taj.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Plot twist! What awaits for them along the way? How are they going to spend this unplanned trip? *w*  
> Also, some issues about Stephen's past, because yes. I took something from the official Marvel's bio, but I dropped Stephen's younger brother Victor. Too much drama. But please, go read it, it's interesting.


	14. Kamar Taj

“Ready?”

There are a couple of bags crammed with all the essentials on the floor by the gate. Some books, Clothes. Everett’s pc. It’s not like they are moving in there. They can always be back in matter of seconds, but Everett insisted to bring what they needed to stay. He arranged his appointments at work. Obviously, the agency gladly agreed to his request to change hours of work, with the guarantee he would be the one oversee the establishment of Wakandan Centers on US soil, along with all the accords they might sign with them. The request to change hours was justified by the time difference with Wakanda. A lucky coincidence.

“Yep.”

Everett is seizing him. He is wearing grey trousers and a white cotton shirt and hasn’t stopped to observe him. If it is because of the nerves he is clearly not used to keep at bait or because since they decided to leave his hair started moving by their own accord, no wind needed, it’s not clear. “Stop it. You should be the nervous one”. He catches a disobedient lock in front of his eyes.

“Maybe. But I have already used a gate before. Can’t be that different.” He shrugs.

“But we are going to Kamar Taj.” Everett huffs, quietly smiling and crosses his arms. “Why are you so worried?”

Stephen sights. “Kamar Taj, it’s not like the other Sanctorums..I’m afraid you might find it..overwhelming”.

“Could you, just for the sake of variety, worry about yourself instead of anybody else? I can take care of myself.” He grabs one of the bags and stares back at him. “Do you trust me?”

Stephen gives up to a smile, “You know I do.”

Everett grins, opening the gate. “It’s going to be ok.”

 

 

The sun is rising over the windowsills as they step out of the Gates’ room. The temperature is nothing like New York. Cold, yes but less umid. Little braciers have been arranged all around the place. “Welcome”, Stephen is looking at him with warm, expectant frown.

Everett peeks at his hair with a knowing grin. “They stopped waving.” He cups Stephen’s cheek and brushes his thumb forward and back, before grabbing his chin and stealing a rapid kiss.

“Give me a tour, doctor”

The place is really something else. Everett takes in every detail in rapid glances as he follows the sorcerer. So, this is where Stephen landed after having lost everything. He is not sure what he imagined it to be like. That’s not completely out of the world. He can see a couple of guys typing some text over their phones or using a pc in one of the gardens. At the same time, however, an outsider could already tell the place isn’t common at all.

“Stephen..?”

“Yes?”

“Do..you feel something?”

“Something?”

“Like..a buzz on your skin.”

Stephen stops walking, his eyes widening in stupor. “You..you can feel it?”. He looks genuinely surprised.

“What is it?”

“Magic..” Stephen breaths, brushing Everett, lost between stupor and fun. “Kamar Taj lies on power lines. Energy is stronger here than somewhere else. They run all around the world and protect Earth. That’s odd”. He grins, “Please don’t let Wong or he will talk you into becoming an apprentice”

“Oh, you know..you might be willing to have a friend to play with while you train”. But Stephen shakes his head as they keep walking, dismissing the idea.

“I’m more inclined to play with you outside my training hours” Stephen blurts out before realizing what he just said. He stops. “I mean..” “Mh..”.

There is no one around, so Everett allows himself to grab Stephen by his ankle and squeezing a little. He leans forward to whisper in his ear.  “Don’t tempt me.” He raises back up. Stephen is torn between reaching back and trying not to blush too much. He’s adorable.

“Show me the rest.” They are about to just do so, when a couple of boys turn the corner and recognize Stephen.

"Master Strange!"

Greetings and small talks are exchanged, introductions made, but Everett is distracted by the behaviour of the two young men. They are not just friendly, he realizes with a fair amount of awe. It's reverence. Fine, Stephen has a relevant role in their world, he gets it. It would explain respect. But he is not an old master, and he joined them just a few years ago, not enough to earn that kind of popularity. Besides, their behaviour had something else, something more personal..

He has no time to think about it, because they are gone, and Stephen keeps their tour going and Everett is not sure of what he should ask.

"And here is the main courtyard. We usually keep common trainings here, as well as-"

Stephen stops abruptly as soon as he glances at the space. Other than a number of students walking in and out, they spot a group of people standing in the middle of it. They have been chatting but interrupt their activities as soon as they caught sight of the new guests. Wong is among them.

Apparently, they were expected.

"Thank God" Wong lets out, more than a little relieved.

"What are you all doing here?" Stephen inquires with an incredulous voice as he lets go of the bags. Everett observes the meeting of people in front of him. Wong, he knows already. They acknowledge each other, silently nodding. The others, he has no idea.  An old and distinguished woman steps in front of Stephen and speaks with a severe tone.

"Wong told us what is happening."

Stephen freezes by reflex and Everett is just about to intervene when the woman's severe expression melts into a knowing smile.

"Do you honestly believe we would let you deal with this on your own, after what you have done for us all?”  


Everett looks between the two of them, lost. What is she talking about? For some reason, Stephen remains still, unable to reply.   


Not that he is given a chance anyway, because she continues. “We are going to help you. She would have had too."

Stephen takes a moment before bowing to them, a murmured ‘thank you’ to shield him. She continues. "We are all going to search the order grimoire in order to find something that can give us some help. In the while, you should follow Wong's and the other masters’ suggestions and start training with them. You don’t need to worry about other matters."

Then toward Everett, “I’m Mrs. Pruitt. I am the guardian of London Sanctorum. Welcome to Kamar Taj.”

“Thank you very much.”

Similar introductions are made between them before the others make their excuses, leaving them to Wong.

"First, you need to place your bags, though. Come with me". They follow the monk. Stephen is still deep in his thoughts, which leaves Everett space to chat with the other sorcerer.

"What do you think of Kamar Taj, Mr. Ross?"

"Everett, please.." He says, quickening his pace. " I am finding it more and more interesting"

Wong steps inside another ward.

“I decided your old room was a little too pokey for the both of you. Besides, we'll need somewhere quiet to train. Come” They are following him but at Wong's words, Stephen's pace falters and Everett looks up at him. He seems genuinely surprised.

“Wong, I could just make a couple-”

“Here you go” 

Wong deliberately ignores him, standing in front of a plain wooden door. An apartment then, Everett realizes. What's wrong with it enough to have Stephen shocked?

"I redecorated a bit, of course." Wong supplies to break the silence.

And to excuse himself out.

“We’ll come back in an hour. The yard in front of the apartments will make for our training.”

“Wong..” Stephen starts.

“I hope you will find Kamar Taj homely, Everett Ross” And he walks away, back to the other side of the apprentices' ward.

Everett catches sight of a golden plate above the entrance. West Pavilion.

“Is something wrong?”

Everett asks, not able to let it go. He got that Stephen is used to spend his time in another room (or apartment?). Maybe Wong moved them here because he took for granted they would be sharing but it doesn't seem to be the problem either..

Stephen doesn't reply straight away. Sightings he steps closer to the door and brushes the wooden panel with his fingers.

“Not at all. I have never been here before. It's just…These used to be her rooms”

_Ah._

“If you prefer-” but Stephen is now facing him, shaking his head and reassuring him.

“No-No, it’s ok.”

He keeps observing Everett with a mixture of apprehension and affection. "It seems - he admits after a moment, - I am the one being overwhelmed today. I'm sorry" Everett breathes out, and gets closer.

"You don't have to apologize...Now, let's put these down and have something to eat before you get started, yeah?"

"Good idea"

 

 

 

The ward consists of an apartment, a small library, meditation garden and a yard facing west, where Stephen is now training with two other masters. Their room is on the same side, and yet dislocated in a knowing display of architectural work. The shape recalls Chinese style but inside Everett can’t help to appreciate a balanced mix of modern design, vintage furniture and a marvellous link of the inner spaces with the outside.  

  
Stephen and two of his colleagues have been training in martial arts for about two hours. And for how endearing is to watch Stephen move in his training outfit, Everett’s mind has been set on another matter at all. 

He has never been the kind of person to just ignore something when it is put under his eyes.  
What London's sorcerer said to Stephen, the way the people around here behave..

There are pieces missing somewhere and he can’t help the urge to fill them out.

If it is about Stephen, he can’t let it go. But he is under the impression he should approach the subject with someone else, before bringing in up to Stephen. There is also his reaction to this magical problem to consider. He already has enough problems to think about, without needing Everett’s curiosity.   
  
He is left beside to watch them training. He has his pc open on the table but he’s ignoring it, in favour of observing Stephen’s struggles with magic. Wong took a break, disappearing for a while just to show up, this time by his side, with tea for the both of them.

“Here you go”

“Thanks”

He sits on the other side of the small table, the both of them watching Stephen as he dodges another flying obstacle, just to send it over the roof, exaggerating with the counterattack. 

"Balance has always been a problem to him"  
  
"Is it?"  
  
Wong nods, smiling mildly. "In the very beginning, he couldn't even activate the most basic arrays, whereas other students carried on in their learning. I wonder if those difficulties had anything to do with this."  
  
"He managed to improve, though."  
  
"He did. He has a brilliant mind and as soon as he got it, he surpassed most of the elder masters."  
  
Everett has no difficulties to believe him. After all, Stephen had been one of the most brilliant surgeons in his field. And yes, you need to work hard, which he did, to reach such a goal. But you also have to be very smart. After the accident, Stephen simply found a new focus for his talents..

"And then he became New York's guardian.." Everett murmurs.

Wong remains silent. Stephen is now trying to not levitate, under the worried glances of his colleagues. Levi keeps dancing around him, mockingly.

Everett smiles at him, reassuringly.

“Try to think about something tedious!” He suggests, raising his voice.

“Like what?” Stephen’s nervousness eases a bit, a smile popping up.

After a moment, Everett sets on his choice. “Spotify Free”

“Ah!” Stephen grins, shaking his head. Except it works, and after a minute, Stephen’s feet touch the ground again. He nods toward Everett and Wong, thankful.

“He hates listening something without buying the thing. Let alone the ads.” Everett adds as explanation for Wong. He is still occupied observing Stephen, when the sorcerer finally answers back. "He also lacks in diplomacy and smoothness, which is not true of you, Everett Ross."  
  
Everett takes it as a green light to voice his questions.

 

No point to dance around it. 

  
  
"Mrs. Pruitt, what she said when we first arrived..what has Stephen done?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know how to apologize for the hiatus. I haven't had much time for..anything, really. (_ _*)  
> The ff is continuing, of course. And from now on I should be able to update regularly. Thank you so much for your love and for enjoying this work and this otp. From this point things are going to heat up ;D


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